


Well

by Lafaiette



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 84,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I wasn’t like… like this before, you know? I was <i>normal</i>. My life was shitty, but not like this, never like this, and I could think without sounds and voices in my head, I had respect for myself! God, I don’t even remember how that feels like!”</p><p>Deadpool knows he is not a hero and that something is definitely wrong with him. Spider-Man wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Well](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991557) by [iloveqty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveqty/pseuds/iloveqty)



> Request from Tumblr. Anon wanted a songfic based on ['Unwell'](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=StFfXP4eAgU) by Matchbox 20.

Knives? Yes. Guns? Oh, yes. Those cute, pink bombs that look like toys but are in fact among his best weapons? Definitely in.

What else is missing? The voices list various things, which are not useful, not that much. He can always buy them again when he’s out of the city or steal them from his targets.

He checks into the bag one more time; there is barely room for a spare costume, a second mask and underwear. It’s not like he owns much, apart from his weapons and mercenary stuff. He keeps food and money in his pockets, so he doesn’t really need to bring anything else with him.

“We are good to go!”

Although the last mission has been a success, he made a mess, a _loud_ mess, and police and superheroes are probably looking for him in every cranny of New York right now. He didn’t want any trouble - he’s feeling pretty good today, no depression or hatred for himself have come to haunt him yet -, so he ran away before the big heroes could arrive on the scene. He will be gone from the city before they can catch him and lower his mood with their disapproving stares, harsh words and complains. And send him to prison, even if it would be perfectly useless.

He _did_ kill three men, that’s true. He shot one, beheaded the other and made the third one explode. Some shops were destroyed - man, those pink bombs sure are the best! - and many, many people were scared and went into panic.

A normal day in the life of Deadpool, to be honest.

“So what’s all the fuss about?” he asks his voices, who remind him that the good heroes don’t like when people are killed and buildings destroyed.

“Those men were bad people! They were assholes, they deserved that death and I deserved the money I got for that job! I should be considered a hero, damn!”

Reasoning with the voices isn’t easy, they are _his_ reason after all; they insist that heroes don’t want _anybody_ to be killed, no matter how disgusting they were.

He whines, giving up. It’s impossible to win with himself! That must mean he’s brilliant, but he can’t help but feeling discouraged every time he tries to win an argument with the boxes in his head.

He takes the bag, leaves the money for the last rent on the table for the nice old lady who offered him the apartment, and heads for the door. He is wearing civilian clothes, a huge raincoat, hat and sunglasses to cover his face. The Deadpool costume would make him too recognizable, he would stand out in the crowd, and if he wants to leave NY without problems, he has to ditch the mask for a while.

He doesn’t like feeling so bare and people will probably stare at him in the streets, wondering what the hell happened to him; hopefully nobody will recognize him as Deadpool, they will just think he is a poor guy who got caught in a bad fire. The worst that could happen is being avoided by moms or old people because they think he has a contagious, horrible skin disease. Not really anything new. He can deal with that, as long as nobody starts talking too loud for the superheroes above their heads to hear.

He presses the hat further onto his bald head, adjusts the sunglasses and starts unlocking the door. He hears the _twip_ too late and next thing he knows is that his hand is stuck on the wall and the handle of the door is blocked by webs.

“Oh, great.” he groans when a blue and red figure jumps down from the ceiling. “Spidey! Sweetie, how did you find me?” Despite the disappointment caused by the capture, he’s happy to see the young man, he is his favorite and his glorious body can make any shitty day ten times brighter.

“I followed you.” Oh, his voice doesn’t sound equally happy, that’s for sure. More like disappointed. Or angry. Maybe both. “I was near the scene when the explosion occurred and people saw you running away.”

“And you caught up with me, without stopping me on the streets to see where I lived and kept my weapons.” Wade grins appreciatively. “You really are a little genius!”

The hero frowns under the mask and approaches him; there are bad vibes coming from him, Wade notices, and he tries to step back, the web around his wrist making it difficult.

“You killed three men today.”

“They deserved it!”

“You killed three men in a _deplorable_ manner and one of your bombs destroyed a bar.” Spidey is standing just few inches from him, fists clenched and teeth clearly gritted if his voice is anything to go by.

“You are coming with me, Wilson. We have to talk.”

“I warn you, Spidey, it takes me a while to reach climax, so please be patient if we have to come at the same time.” the merc wiggles his eyebrows and the hero groans, ready to web his mouth and tie his arms to carry him better. He’s too close, though, and Wade’s comment has worked, because the young man has temporarily forgotten about his free legs. Legs that Wade uses to kick the hero’s - so long and lean, _mmh!_ -and make him fall on the floor.

“Wilson!”

Wade takes a knife out of one pocket and slices off the webs; Spidey is fast and agile, that’s undeniable, but even he has to stop and yelp when the knife is thrown over his head.

“Come back here!”

There are stairs outside the bedroom window, he remembers them… it would be easier to avoid Spidey’s webs in a larger area rather than running like a mouse in a maze inside this small apartment.

“Wilson…!”

A foot on the ledge, bag thrown on his back, a raised gun, pointing straight at Spidey’s head… yes, the pose is perfect, worth of a comic cover or movie poster. Even the voices agree.

“Thanks, guys.” Wade’s smile grows. “Okay, honey, you know how much I hate hurting you. So now I’m gonna leave from this window and if you dare coming after me before giving me at least five… no, ten minutes of advantage, then I’ll have to put a bullet into one of those sexy legs of yours. Understood?”

Spidey glares at him some more, his stance stiff, as if ready to move any second now.

“I thought you wanted to become a hero.”

Wade’s smile disappears, replaced by a scowl.

“Who says I am not already a hero?”

“The fact that you killed three people.” The young man steps closer until Wade shakes warningly the gun. “There is blood on your hands again.”

“It’s _bad_ blood.” Wade corrects him. “While you saints just throw punches and say ‘sorry’ when you step on a serial killer or rapist’s toes, I _free_ the world from them!” He drops the bag and jabs the skin above his heart, continuing with a snarl: “Those assholes are dead, yes! Death isn’t even enough for them! You know what they did, Spidey? Do you want to know?”

He’s furious, now, he knew his good mood wouldn’t have lasted much with one of the good guys around. Especially the web-head, always so righteous and brave, always so sure about what it needs to be done for the world and its people.

“I don’t care about what they did.” Spider-Man moves closer and Wade’s finger hesitates on the trigger. “They may have been monsters, but that’s not a good excuse to kill people.” He shakes his head, his voice low and tired. “It never is, Wilson.”

“Stop the preach, please.” the merc whimpers, rolling his eyes. “Fuck, Spidey, everything was going so nice! I got my money, I was ready to leave after admiring your buttocks… Why did you have to start the morality lesson?”

“Wilson, you need help.” and his worried - _worried?_ \- tone would be almost cute if he didn’t look so serious. So convinced.

And that’s probably why Wade snaps, firing at the ceiling without uttering a single word. Spidey jumps, literally; he springs on the wall on the opposite side of the room, eyes wide, breathing heavily.

“I don’t need help.” the mercenary replies coldly, lowering the gun. “And even if I did, nobody could help me. They already tried and it didn’t go so well.” He removes the hat and sunglasses and gestures at his face. “See? I don’t like receiving help anymore, sweetie. The pamphlets always lie.”

Spidey slowly walks on the wall down to the floor, studying the merc’s face. He already saw it in the past, but never like this, never so distorted by anger.

“You can’t keep living like this. I know you are not a bad man, I know there is good in you, you just need a little push to…”

“To what?” Wade grits his teeth, aims the gun at the web-head’s chest. “To fall into an abyss of medicines, tubes into my skin and painful experiments?”

“No!” Spidey looks genuinely terrified by that idea, there is sincerity in his voice. “No, nothing like that, I swear! But there are people - normal, good doctors - that…”

“Why are you telling me this, sweetie?” the merc chuckles mirthlessly. “You don’t care about me. You and your super friends couldn’t give less of a fuck about me. I’m just a freak that bothers your precious team, an idiot who’s useful only for special missions and even those are a rare exception.”

“No, that’s not…!”

“And especially _you_ , Spidey-babe.” Fuck, his voice is pained and strained, he knows it. He needs his mask. He needs something to hide his face, his eyes, his twitching lips… “I know you especially don’t care. Why should you? I know because… hey, let’s be honest here, I’m the bad guy, a fucking crazy bad guy, right? And you… you are the gorgeous hero, the selfless savior.” Wade shrugs with a sad smile. “I understand. I don’t care about me either.”

A heavy silence falls into the room; the merc can’t see Spidey’s eyes, but there is something in his pose and in the way he fidgets that tells him he’s really sorry, that he really wants to do something.

“I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t care about you and your situation.” the young man finally replies, his tone confident and serious. “I would have webbed you down and taken you to some maximum-security prison or asylum, without even speaking to you like this, without even telling you ‘we have to talk’.”

“That’s pity.” Wade scoffs, scratching a scab on his neck absentmindedly. “It’s something I feel for myself every fucking day. No, wait, in my case it’s more similar to disgust.”

That sad stance again. Damn, he would give all his money to see the boy’s eyes right now!

He slowly lowers the gun, thinking that Spidey’s pose must be caused by the frightening muzzle aimed at him; however the hero doesn’t relax, everything in him still screams sadness and something else the mercenary can’t decipher.

“Why did you decide to tell me this then?” He smiles ironically. “I did nothing different from usual today. I killed three men - and it doesn’t matter _why_ I did it, everyone always thinks the reason must be only the pay -, a building exploded and I ran away… Yes, the last part may be weird, I admit, but the answer is simple.” He laughs maniacally even if he wants to cry. It’s one of his gifts. “I didn’t want to fight you guys. I was feeling really good and even the voices in my head were calm for once.”

“I…” Spidey steps forward. “I’ve been wanting to discuss this with you for a long time, actually. Remember two months ago, when you helped me to deal with those terrorists? When we saved those hostages?”

Wade frowns, nodding slowly. Of course he remembers that glorious team-up, he would renounce everything just to fight side by side with Spider-Man and receive his thanks.

“I… I don’t get it. You could do so much good, Wade, you could help people in a honest way, without blood and death!” The young hero is getting nervous too. “Instead you use violence and spread it all around you… You could be so much more! You could really be a hero, I saw it!” His voice gets louder until he’s shouting  and then he takes a deep breath, observing the merc’s reaction to his words.

He’s glaring at him.

“… I already help people.”

“It’s the wrong way, Wade!”

“ _I know!_ ”

Another shoot and white dust falls from the ceiling; this time Spidey doesn’t retreat nor move, he stands still while Wade pants and bites his lips until they are bleeding.

“I know that.” he murmurs, dropping the gun on the floor. “I’m not stupid. And the voices remind me every night anyway.” He lowers his eyes, looking at the hat and sunglasses without really seeing them. “They tell me to get some sleep, to clear my mind because tomorrow may be better. Tomorrow could be the day that I finally find my way and start fixing my disgusting life.” The corners of his chapped, now slight bloody, mouth curl upwards in a weak smile. “The ironic thing is that they talk _so much_ , they repeat the same things _so many times_ , that I actually can’t get any sleep. I think they do that on purpose, the little bastards.”

The two boxes start cursing at him, but he’s able to tune them down thanks to Spidey’s presence and the distraction it provides him.

“I wasn’t like… like this before, you know? I was _normal_. My life was shitty, but not like this, never like this, and I could think without sounds and voices in my head, I had respect for myself! God, I don’t even remember how that feels like! Now…” He snarls, digging his fingers into his face, into the skin, until the scars start bleeding a bit. “Now I’m _this_.”

“Wade, don’t…”

“People stare at me. _Always_. Even when I’m wearing the mask. Some recognize me, others think I’m a freak. And when I walk barefaced…” He snorts bitterly, kicking the hat and stepping on the sunglasses, breaking the lenses. “Then they whisper. They point at me, they laugh, they are disgusted, they avoid me, they pretend I don’t exist.”

He tears his skin, ignoring the pain he is so used to, feeling the blood pouring down on his face. He knows it’s not a huge wound, but Spidey looks shocked and steps closer, not sure about what to do.

“There is really something wrong with me, eh, web-head?” the merc giggles maniacally, clutching the hand on his face until the pain becomes so strong he almost doesn’t feel it anymore. The cancer humming in the background hides it well and the healing factor is already working fast anyway.

“Please, Wade, stop doing that, don’t hurt yourself…”

“Why, Spidey!” He moves the hand, showing the raw, red flesh healing at great speed. “Did you forget that wounds are temporary on me? Only scars and scabs stay!” He chuckles somberly. “… You are right. Maybe I really need help.”

But his calmness disappears in one second and he shouts, kicking the bed and knocking it down on its side: “But I’m not crazy! I’m just a little unwell, okay?! Everyone is, I just show it more!”

“I know, Wade, I…”

“You saw me! You said so!” the merc walks over to the young man, who gasps when he grabs his wrists and presses their foreheads together, the scarred face so close now, the smell of blood stronger.

“You saw that I can be good! You saw that part of me!”

“It’s true, I did, you…”

“Then _stay!_ ”

For a moment, the hero thinks that Wade is going to kiss him; there is a plea in his eyes, and also tears, then he steps back, shame, fear and hope written all over his disfigured face.

“I can show you again. I can be better, I’ll try again, I promise!” He’s talking fast, his breathing erratic. He looks like a scared child, a shadow of the cool, amused mercenary that he was minutes ago.

“Just stay!” he cries. “Just a little longer, I can show you again! I really can, I swear!” He retrieves the gun from the floor, holding it with a shaky grip. Spidey extends a hand, opening his mouth to speak, but Wade precedes him.

“ _Fuck!_ Fuck, Spidey, I… I…”

He presses the gun under his chin, like he has done so many times before, and shoots, letting the darkness envelop him.

 

\- - -

 

He regains consciousness on the bed. It’s been repositioned correctly and the sheets are clean, draped over his legs.

Sitting up groggily, he notices that he’s not wearing the jacket anymore. It’s resting on a chair, together with the hat, the broken sunglasses and the gun.

He stares at them until his sight gets blurred, his mind lost into dark thoughts; he thinks about Spider-Man, his words, his sad and worried voice. Everything went downhill, this has been another day ruined by depression, fear and the disgust he has for himself.

The voices get loud, telling him things he already knows, reminding him of his pain and hopelessness.

Then another voice - a _real_ voice - interrupts them and his grim musings.

“How do you feel?”

He yelps and looks at his left; Spidey is sitting next to the bed, the mask rolled up to his nose, elbows resting on his knees. He looks so peaceful, relaxed; after the previous, loud chaos, the room is now blissfully quiet and calm.

“You…” Wade shakes his head incredulously. “You… What…?”

“I stayed.”

The tone is gentle and Spidey’s lips curl into a smile.

The merc mumbles some unintelligible words, then looks down at the white sheets. Spidey suddenly sounds embarrassed.

“Oh, I…! I used the old ones to clean the blood.” He clears his throat, pointing at Wade’s face. “It was on your head and on the wall, so…”

“Thank you.”

Wade is staring at him and his heart skips a beat when he sees the blush on the hero’s cheeks.

“No problem.”

Another silence falls between them, but this time it’s not heavy nor awkward. It’s soothing and Wade rests his back on the headboard, looking at the young man, who repeats softly again: “How do you feel?”

The merc inhales deeply and slowly; he smells his blood, the gunpowder, the crisp sheets. There is also Spidey’s scent in the air, it’s reassuring and his mouth goes dry when the boy moves the chair to sit closer to the bed. He flinches a bit when a warm hand rests gently upon his arm; the contact isn’t painful or dangerous like he’s used to, it’s nice and he would like to be touched like that, by Spidey, for the rest of his life.

He raises his eyes and looks at him, smiling.

“I’m feeling well.”

And it’s true.


	2. Chapter 2

"I will talk with the others."

Spidey is still sitting beside the bed, mouth set in a firm, thin line. Wade, wearing the old attire he had on before, minus the sunglasses, shoots him a mild surprised look.

"Really?"

Spidey nods and Wade lowers his gaze, muttering a ‘thanks’. He picks up his bag, grimacing because it’s so much lighter now. Spidey took out the weapons and left only the spare Deadpool costume and the few, bare necessities. The guns, knives, and bombs are resting against a wall and the merc eyes them longingly before looking back at the hero.

"So you are letting me go?"

"It’s not the first time I do it, remember?" Spidey gets up with a sigh and observes the bare walls with bullet holes on them. Wade can’t see his expression due to the mask, but it must not be happy. His stance, just like before, expresses only sadness and something else.

"I know why you do it." Wade smiles sadly. "You pity me, right?"

Spidey is the one taken aback now. After the initial surprise, he quickly shakes his head, the eyes of the mask wide.

"No! It’s just that…" He lets out a heavy breath. "It’s that… I _understand_ , Wade. I know what it feels like to never get a chance or a second possibility.” He shrugs and sits down again, looking at the ground, arms folded. “Sometimes, when I see you, I can see a… a distorted version of myself. If I hadn’t had my family during my early days as Spider-Man, I would have probably become like you. It’s just a minimal, tiny difference.”

Wade walks closer to him, uncharacteristically quiet, and Spidey sighs through his nose, concluding: “We are more similar than you think, Wade. That’s why I wanted to help you.”

"Nobody can help me." Wade repeats the words he said before shooting himself, his voice low and rough. Spidey looks up at him and frowns.

"Did you ever _try_?” he retorts, getting up again and walking over to the merc, who doesn’t move an inch. “Did you ever stop to listen to some advices, to what other, good people told you? I know you don’t easily trust them, but did you _ever_ stop listening to your own crying and decide to do something?”

"There are no solutions for me, Spidey." Wade growls, the mood in the room starting to get uneasy for the second time. "I tried _everything!_ I killed those scientists who destroyed me to the core, I tried killing myself hundreds of times, I even gave a chance to one of those headshrinkers people admire so much…”

"Here is the problem!" Spidey jabs his chest with a long finger and the merc finally steps back, his scarred face further disfigured by confusion and anger.

The young hero glares at him through the white lenses of his mask and says: “You either resort to killing or simply give up and never give a chance to _yourself_. That’s the problem, Wilson!”

"Well, nobody ever gave me a chance, as you brilliantly explained before! Why should _I?_ " the merc spats, clenching his fists. He’s ready to storm out, to leave Spidey there and forget about this shitty day, but the hero surprises him again.

"I am." Spidey raises his head a little; he’s a bit shorter than Wade and he does it to look at him in the eye better. "I _am_ giving you a chance, Wade. Again.”

"Well…" Wade pouts, diverting his eyes like an offended child who knows he’s wrong. "It’s… it’s useless! It never worked, otherwise we wouldn’t be here talking about it. Not even you, with your sweet voice and cool ass, can help me."

A heavy silence falls in the room; Spidey is still staring at the merc, his expression unreadable, and Wade _hates_ being stared at, so he lowers his head hoping the hat will cover his face.

"… I see." Spidey finally says and Wade bites his lips, feeling lost and on the verge of tears. No, he won’t cry in front of Spider-Man. Not today.

He hears the young man move, he passes by him, his weak scent lingering in the air.

"You better go, Wilson. I will tell the others you have probably left the city, so you will have more time to really do it, okay?"

"W-Wait!"

Wade raises his head and turns around to where Spidey’s voice came from; he is standing next to the window, a foot already out, a wrist ready to shoot a web and take him away from that wretched apartment.

"I… I think I can do it, but… but you will have to help me!" Wade almost runs to him to grab his hand before he can leave; Spidey’s eyes widen and he doesn’t even react to the sudden, strong grip around his wrist.

"That’s right!" Wade exclaims with a slightly crazy grin. "You said you know I can be a good person, right? That you saw it in me and believe I can do some good… well, maybe you are right, but if you want me to take out all this inner goodness and heroism, then you must help me!"

Spidey now is frowning, but doesn’t interrupt and actually puts the foot back into the room, listening carefully. Wade is grateful for that and clasps their hands together.

"You are a good guy, right? One of the best, so righteous, selfless, and brave. Maybe not everyone likes you…" and Spidey’s scowl deepens, "… but hey! At least no one screams with fear or looks at you with disgust when you risk your butt for them!" Wade smiles with sad resignation. "And you can take off your mask too. No one would ever puke at the sight of your face, I’m sure of that."

The young man’s expression softens and his hands twitch inside Wade’s. The merc squeezes them, grinning again, and continues: “So who else could help me? You are the only one who can guide me in this, Spidey! You know the other superheroes don’t have the same patience you have with me. And they… they wouldn’t understand.” Wade’s eyes are bright with hope now. “But you can, right?”

Spidey returns his look, stares at him again, and this time Wade doesn’t avoid his eyes, his grip on those leans and strong hands becomes stronger. Then Spidey nods, slowly, and asks: “So what is your idea?”

"You are the best web-head ever!" Wade giggles, unable to contain his excitement and joy. "I will follow your advices! I will come with you on patrols and do _everything_ you will tell me to do. Use simple words, though, I’m clever, but I’m not at your same geek-level.”

"So you want to be my sidekick?" and Wade can almost see the smug face Spidey is making under his mask, hell, he can _feel_ it. So he pouts.

"No!" he yelps indignantly. "We are gonna be _partners_! The best duo New York has ever seen!”

Spidey frees his hands and puts them on his hips to show a stern and authoritative stance. For several seconds, Wade longs for his warm touch, but the voices - came back in full force after a peaceful absence - remind him to pay attention.

"There are going to be rules, Wilson."

"Ugh."

The voices quickly tell him to stop paying attention, but it’s too late, Spidey is too near to him and his words and voice reach him and trap him. He doesn’t mind that much, though. It’s nice to hear someone else’s voice, for once, especially if this voice is Spidey’s.

"First: you can’t absolutely - and I repeat, _absolutely -_ kill anyone. I don’t care who the adversaries are going to be, I don’t want you to gut, behead or stab them.”

"What about shoot?" Wade wiggles the eyebrows he doesn’t have and Spidey punctually smacks his head.

"No! You can’t _kill_ them!” He blinks, thinks about something for a moment, then adds: “And you can’t maim anybody. Just incapacitate or immobilize them. Are we clear?”

"Gosh, that’s so boring!" the merc whines, repeating the same words the voices in his head are crying out in complete despair.

"I don’t care." Spidey glares at him and raises two fingers.

"Second: stick to the plan. Don’t come up with crazy ideas on the spot that would likely make me have a heartattack. We will have to _cooperate_. Understood?”

"You are the one who sticks, Spidey." Wade’s scarred mug splits into a lewd smirk. "And I know another place where we can cooperate together… do you catch my drift?"

"I do." the young hero deadpans, not even bothering to give another answer. He goes on, adding a third finger that Wade would like to be added inside his- no, focus, Wade, focus!

"Third: we will meet every night and go on patrol together, but if my Avengers duty calls, you can’t come with me. That’s official Avengers business and if Cap doesn’t give his permission to let someone be part of it - even for a single mission -, then I can’t show up with you."

"And what if it’s an emergency and you need backup?" Wade looks excited by the idea of being able to take part in some special missions with the other superheroes. "I know you don’t care about rules when that happens."

"Then you _can_ come, but let’s hope nothing terribly serious and bad will happen, okay?” Spidey suddenly seems worried. “Wait, for how long will we have to do this anyway?”

"Until I am a good person, duh! A hero like you!"

"… That may require _years_ , Wilson.”

Wade and his voices pout, even if Spidey can’t see the two ‘boxes’.

"I thought you were an optimist guy."

"I am a _realistic_ guy, but…” the hero sighs and drops his arms, giving in. “Okay. Let’s do this and see what happens.” Wade practically squeals with joy and hugs him, forgetting for a moment that he isn’t wearing his costume and mask. Spidey tenses up under his touch and the merc can feel his warmth on his neck and chest.

"Oh! Huh, sorry. Didn’t want you to feel… this." Wade awkwardly pulls away and once again he avoids the hero’s eyes. The strength of his muscles, the soft lines of his body, and his heat are still impressed on his mind, though; forgetting them is going to be hard.

"Where do you want to meet?" the merc quickly asks, hoping to let _Spidey_ forget about the way his marred skin must have felt.

"What about here? On the rooftop would be okay too."

"Yeah, that’s cool. So… what are you going to tell your colleagues, now? I mean, people will start noticing soon that Spidey and Deadpool team up every night."

"I will talk to them, but I will tell the truth." Spidey finally shows a smile. "You are lucky Cap is a too kind man. He will understand."

"And the others?" It’s not like Wade cares, but for some reason he doesn’t want the young lad to get in trouble with his super friends. He knows how being judged feels like. Are they going to do the same with him?

"Logan will probably tell me I am insane."

"While sipping a beer."

"And smoking one of his smelly cigars. Yes." Spidey chuckles and the sound makes the room bigger and hotter. Wade clears his throat, not wanting to feel that weird sensation in his heart too much.

"Don’t worry, Wade. I told you I want to help you, right?" His smile this time is bigger. "Actually, I’m glad you suggested this. I thought you were going to give up again."

"That’s why you were leaving?" and Wade tries to leave out of his voice the hurt, pained accusation, but he can hear it clearly when the words leave his mouth. Spidey does, too, and he slowly nods, looking a little bit guilty.

"There wasn’t much I could do. I was letting you go, but if you were so convinced about your situation, then I couldn’t insist more. I know you are terribly stubborn." He tilts his head slightly, looking perplexed. "Why did you change your mind, this time?"

The voices ask the same thing. Weird, they should know the answer. But Wade _doesn’t_ , so he opens his mouth, closes it, makes a face, and shrugs.

"Who cares! The important thing is that I accepted your help, right?"

They look at each other for long seconds, so long Wade feels the strongest urge of running away, of hiding under the bed to escape that white stare which he can’t give a meaning to.

Spidey finally looks away, at the window and the city behind it.

"I will go to the others now. We will start tomorrow night, okay?"

"What?!" Wade looks like a terrified puppy, now, and he isn’t even aware of it. "Why not tonight?"

"Because I have to talk with Cap and the others and clean up the mess you made." Spidey curtly explains, but Wade whines and insists: "Oh, come on, they should be done with that by now! And the cops have probably stopped looking for me, they know me too well."

“ _People_ know you well too, Wade.” Spidey reminds him, his voice sounding a bit sympathetic. “There is still a lot of commotion and alarm. Let’s wait until tomorrow, okay?”

The merc scoffs, now really offended, but not even that much. He’s used to this.

"You want to wait because you don’t want people to see you together with the crazy criminal that killed three men, right?"

"No." Spidey sounds quite angry and disgusted by the idea. "I’m not that shallow. People already saw us together before and my reputation has always been bad thanks to Jonah." He forces Wade to look at him with three fingers grabbing his jaw. "And you killed way more than three people in your career, Wilson. Going by your logic, I should _never_ be seen with you.”

Wade sniffs, crunching up his face, the scars shifting and changing, and mumbles in agreement.

"Good." Spidey steps back and the merc is already missing his touch on his bare skin. "We will meet here tomorrow, then. Midnight?"

"Midnight." Wade grins and a playful light appears in his eyes. "I will wear my best dress for this date!"

"It’s not a date!" Spidey replies and- is that a blush? Wade can see only his uncovered mouth, but yes, that’s definitely a blush! Maybe.

"We could call it a psychiatric meeting." the hero adds, groaning when Wade wraps a large arm around his lithe shoulders.

"Of course, honey. Should I lie down on a sofa, one like those you see on TV?" He makes a smooching sound. "Can you join me? I think there is something wrong with my ‘other’ head…"

"Wilson!" Spidey pushes him away. Yup, that’s definitely a blush. "Don’t you dare making these jokes when we are on patrol or this will be the last time you see me!"

"No, no! I will be good, I swear!"

Spidey puts a feet out of the window, prepares a web-shooter, and gives him another look.

"Tomorrow, midnight. Don’t forget."

"How could I forget the first of many team-ups with my favorite web-head?" Wade waves at him, but soon his excited smile disappears, replaced by a softer, more distant expression.

"Spidey?"

"Yes?" Spidey asks, raising an eyebrow, his arm already pointing at a skyscraper far away.

"… No, nevermind. Huh, be careful not to fall. I don’t want to see that perfect butt ruined."

"Don’t worry." the young man snorts, before shooting a web. "See you tomorrow! And don’t get into trouble!"

Wade takes off his hat, sighing as he watches the hero swing away.

"I think I already am in trouble." he murmurs, his heart still beating fast and the blush he has hidden with the hat is now perfectly visible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to expand this fic a little more. Hopefully it's going to have many chapters and things are going to get a bit more serious later on. I will probably have to change the rating too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention! There is some gore and blood in this chapter.

As soon as Spidey enters from the window, Wade opens wide his arms and greets him with a blinding smile… well, it would be blinding if it wasn’t covered by the spandex.

Spidey stops on the windowsill, not quite comprehending the sight before his eyes.

"… Is that a dress?"

"Of course!" Wade lifts the hems and curtsies. "It’s a special date and I wanted to be _fabulous_!”

His fluttering eyes are replaced by panic when Spidey abruptly turns around and aims at the other side of the road.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?!"

"This was a _terrible_ idea.”

"Is it the colour? It’s light pink, I think it suits me! And there aren’t even too many laces this time!"

The young hero glares at him and looks a little bit disapproving.

"You are wearing _red_ spandex beneath that dress. Red and pink don’t fit _at all_ together. Even I can see that and I suck at these things!”

Wade looks down, carefully thinks about it, then groans.

"I guess you are right." His pride doesn’t let him stop, though, and he hurries to retort with an offended scowl: "You never like my dresses though! You were rude when I wore that fantastic lolita dress too!"

"There was a crazy monkey that wanted to kill you. It wasn’t the right time to think about drag." Spidey reminds him, equally sharp, and the merc huffs and looks away, arms folded over the pink, satin chest.

"We have a patrol to do together. It’s not a game nor a joke, Wilson, so please - _please_ -, try to be serious, okay?” Spidey seems to notice something that he didn’t see before due to that cheerful dress.

"You are not coming with _those_.”

Wade gasps as if he was slapped.

"These are my guns, Spidey! I _work_ with them, they are part of my costume!” The Deadpool mask crumples a bit around the forehead and mouth. “They are my babies and you can’t take them from me!”

"Very well." Spidey rises the arm again and doesn’t break eye contact. "You are not coming with me, then."

"No!" the merc whines, even stomping a foot on the ground. "You can’t do this, it’s unfair!"

"We talked about this yesterday, Wilson! No killing, no maiming! You can’t take your guns with you!"

"Who said I will use them to kill?"

Spidey gives him a weary and ironic look.

"You don’t trust me!" Wade shrieks and for a moment he would sound almost hysterical if it wasn’t for his childish pouting - he does that _a lot_ \- and the comical way the pink fabric clings to his built body. “I have self-control, you know?? I know how to stop my hand - not when I’m touching myself, maybe, _but_ I know how to do that with a gun!”

The voices tiredly say he shouldn’t have told Spidey he masturbates too much, especially judging from the way the hero is pinching the bridge of his nose.

He sighs, then changes topic: “I’m sorry, Wilson, but no, I don’t trust your self-control. I know you can become reckless and lose your patience easily in the middle of a battle.” He shakes his head and gestures at the weapons inside the holsters. “I will let you use them as soon as I am sure you can handle yourself in a fight without killing anybody. Not before.”

"Can I at least bring my katanas? Sorry, sweetums, I don’t have anything else." Wade starts dropping the pistols on the floor, not caring about the mess and the noise. "I am not like you, I don’t shoot cum out of my hands to immobilize adversaries." He sniffs indignantly, like a true lady. "I am way classier."

Spidey doesn’t answer and finally steps back into the apartment. Wade is starting to hate that mask, he can’t read anything under that. He knows the same is valid for him too, but _his_ mask is a necessity, his mask has a different meaning. It only expresses disgust, fear, lack of confidence. Spidey’s mask is hope, justice, is a shield to protect his precious true identity from people, it’s not a wall like Wade’s to avoid judgment and more _staring_. Staring at the scars, scabs, bumps, pain, horror…

"Wade?"

The merc jumps when Spider-Man’s hand touches his forearm; he steps back, flinching, and shoots him a warning glare.

"S-Sorry. You seemed… huh, distant." Spidey clears his throat and gestures at the window, changing topic once again: "We should get going while it’s still early."

"Oh…! Yeah, right. Let’s go."

The voices starts shouting at him suggestions and advices; he should totally avoid mentions about masturbation, his scars, the pain that doesn’t let him sleep at night and the nightmares.

 _Don’t tell him about us either. If you want to win his heart, you must look normal!_ one of the voice chirps.

Now that they are actually going, Wade feels nervous. Spidey is crouching on the windowsill again, studying the city and the roads below them. Damn, that position makes his ass look so good…

_Don’t touch it!_

Oh, shit, right. Wade gulps, pulls back his hand, and looks away; fortunately Spidey didn’t notice and when he turns around he talks about patrols and heroic stuff. Wade does his best to look interested and listen.

"Let’s begin from this area. Since you can’t follow me on the streets or by car or any other vehicle, we will have to use another method." He looks up to the sky and whispers a prayer: "Please, God, don’t let this be a horrible idea…"

"I heard you!" Wade grumbles, but his interest grows, so he grins enthusiastically. "What do you have in that brilliant mind of yours?"

"You are going to ride me."

As soon as those words leave his mouth, Spidey regrets them. He groans and facepalms, while Wade giggles and leans in to be closer to his face.

"Oh my, Spidey! I didn’t know you could be so blunt!" He smacks playfully his arm, the gesture made funnier by the flashing dress. "That was so filthy! But I _gladly_ accept.”

He is already backtracking towards the bed when the hero grabs his wrist to stop him.

"I didn’t mean _that!_ " he answers, his voice a bit too loud. His hand is slightly trembling, too. "I meant you will have to grab tight on me while I use my webs. We will move together."

"So we will be close to each other, like this?" Wade wraps an arm around the lean, muscled waist. He’s more relaxed this time, he has his costume on and Spidey won’t feel his skin.

"Yeah." the hero frowns. "If you touch me in inappropriate ways, I’m going to make you fall."

"You won’t do that!" Wade giggles, pulling him closer until Spidey’s hands are pushed on his chest. "We are partners now!"

"Remind me why I accepted to do this." the young man sighs, freeing himself from the hold and motioning Wade to get on his back. "Come on, we already lost too much time! I have to go to work in a few hours."

"Ohh, you have a job, baby boy?" Wade wraps his legs and arms around the hero’s body, basking in the warm feeling and scent, and rests his head on his shoulder. The vigilante slowly turns his head to glare at him.

"No nicknames."

"This wasn’t in the rules you told me yesterday!"

"Well, it is _now_. No nicknames, people may hear you and…”

"And think we are together?" the merc snorts without hilarity. "I understand. Nobody would want people to believe that with me."

Spidey opens his mouth to reply, but no sound comes, and he slowly closes it, showing no emotion, helped by the mask.

"Come on." he mutters rising the arm. "Are you ready?"

"Of course!" Wade presses further into the warmth and strong muscles he can feel under the spandex. "I always wanted to ride you, Spidey!"

The hero groans and jumps, flinching when the mercenary starts screaming in his ear.

"To the left, to the left! Shit, this is funny- oh, look, a hot dog stand!"

"We have a patrol to do! And stop squirming so much!"

"Why?" Wade whispers seductively. "Am I making you uncomfortably tight down there, Spidey?"

The hero spins in midair, making the mercenary yelp in surprise, and gracefully shoots another thread, never losing balance.

"Do you see any trouble?" he asks with a serious tone. People in the streets are looking at them, intrigued by the noise Wade is making and the unusual sight. Camera and phones start taking pictures, videos are made, fingers are pointed at them. Apart from this, nothing else catches the hero’s attention.

"We are going on YouTube, Spidey!" the merc chuckles maniacally waving at two teenagers gawking at them. "Hey, warn me when you do this swirly thing! Ugh, I can feel the toasts I ate for breakfast in my throat…"

“ _Don’t_.” the wall-crawler’s voice contains only anger and regret. Maybe a tiny plea too. “Don’t you dare, Wilson!”

"It’s not my fault everything is so dizzy here!" Wade clings closer to him, a hand groping the abs and chest of the hero. "Slow down, it’s my first time after all! I thought you were a nicer guy!"

Spidey growls under his breath and finally lands on a rooftop; when Wade refuses to detach himself from him, he elbows his stomach until he is forced to do it.

"Where are we?" the merc asks rubbing his aching body. "There is nothing romantic about this place, baby boy!"

"Shut up and listen."

"I’m not good at either, actually. Can I do something else? For example, talking about Bea Arthur? My love for weapons, shiny things, and money?"

"We are protecting the city right now!" Spidey hisses crouching on the edge of the roof and looking down at the now tiny streets.

"Protecting it from _what?_ All you are doing is sitting like you have to poop really bad and glaring down at the cars!”

"Anything could happen. A robbery in that supermarket. An argument may end badly. An old lady may need help in the traffic. Monsters. Aliens. Mad scientists." Spidey turns to him to continue his list of good points, but Wade is scratching his butt and looking rather bored and disappointed.

“ _This_ is what you do every night?” he asks with incredulity. “Jeez, it’s so lame! You are supposed to be a superhero!”

"This is what superheroes do." Spidey retorts coldly, not hiding his hurt pride. "It doesn’t matter if it’s boring, we must do this to help the people and the city. It’s our duty."

"Ugh."

Wade flops next to him, resting his chin on a hand and looking at the lights and colours in front of them. It’s a beautiful sight and he is with _Spider-Man_ , who willingly accepted to help him. Even he knows how important and good this chance is. He must do his best to be good, he _has to_ be good or all this will end and he doesn’t want that.

It’s the first time he and Spidey hang out like this. It’s new, special, _overwhelming._ Just the day before, he was fighting his loneliness and despair, and now he’s here, on this rooftop with his favorite web-head teaching him how to be a hero, how to be normal. And it doesn’t help that his presence is so comforting, so relaxing, so beautiful, that his voice and laughter attract him like nothing else.

 _'What should I do?'_ he asks himself - not the voices, they have been repeating over hundreds of cheesy romantic words and advices for the last ten minutes. _'Think, Wade, think! Be smooth! Be clever and witty as you always are, but more!'_

He forces the boxes to shut up and focuses entirely on the young man besides him; it’s so strange and rare sitting with him like this that Wade is tempted to stab one of his legs to see whether this is a hallucination or not.

"Well, I guess it’s cool to relax and have serious inner monologues… It’s not _that_ bad, I guess.” He shrugs noncommittally when Spidey gives him an amused look. “You get to see all these beautiful skyscrapers… the lights… the, huh… huh…”

"Sky? Unfortunately it’s not very starry." Spidey looks up and Wade moves sideways to get closer to him. 

"I went camping with my family once." the hero recalls, his lips curling into a smile and shifting the mask. "There were a lot of stars and my Uncle helped me recognize them all."

"That’s…" the mercenary clears his throat. ‘ _Say nice things, Wade, say nice things!’_ "That’s cute. Is he an astronomer? One of those wizards who appear on TV and can read your future through the telephone?"

"Those are astrologers." the young man snorts, hiding his smile behind a hand. "No, he just loved the world a lot."

Despite his lack of social boundaries, Wade is a pretty emotional guy and he can empathize… sometimes. Not always. He _can_ , though, he totally can, so he doesn’t fail to notice Spidey’s nostalgic tone, the same he used with him the previous day, when he shot himself.

"He sounds like a good person." he says slowly, hoping it’s the right thing to say in situations like these. "The kind of man one would associate to a superhero… I think."

"Thanks." Spidey laughs and his sadness goes away, together with Wade’s anxiety; the merc exhales, relieved, jumping a bit when a hand lightly pat his back.

"Everything seems okay in this part of the city. Let’s swing over there."

"We have to do this for the _entire_ city?” Wade gets up with a groan, but his excitement comes back when he jumps on the hero and wraps his legs and arms around him like ivy. “Actually this is quite fun. Go, my brave spider! To infinity and beyond!”

"Please don’t remind me of Toy Story or I will cry."

"I know right?? I cried buckets of tears during the last movie. The furnace, man, the furnace! That was fucked up!"

"You _cried_?” Even as they swing in air and the wind blows strong around them, the hero’s amused tone is clearly audible.

"Manly tears, of course!" Wade quickly clarifies. With a smirk, he nuzzles the hero’s neck, making him yelp in surprise.

"Stop!"

"You smell so nice, sweetums! Like sweat and cheap bleach!"

"Flattery won’t help you. Stop kissing my neck, Wilson, or I am going to drop you!"

"I just wanted to show you my love." Wade pouts pressing a last kiss on the masked cheek. "You are carrying me so carefully, it’s awful kind of you!"

"I swear, I  _am_ going to drop you.”

"Do it, you little bug- _eeek!_ ”

Spidey just made a backflip and Wade is grateful for his sharp reflexes and the tight hold he has on the young man, otherwise right now he would be falling towards a painful and gruesome - albeit temporary - death.

"Next time I will make you fall, I warn you."

"Nah, you wouldn’t scare your precious citizens." Wade chuckles, grinding a bit against his back. "Plus I am wearing my dazzling dress, I know it seduced you!"

Spider-Man is about to reply - and Wade is pretty sure it’s going to be a funny, witty answer - when a scream down below interrupts them.

"Over there!"

"Go, Spidey, go!"

Three thugs are surrounding a frail-looking old lady in a narrow, isolated alley; she is pressing her purse on her chest, trying to defend it even if there are knives in the criminals’ hands.

Spidey lands right at the start of the dark alleyway and tuts disapprovingly as Wade swiftly gets off and unsheathes his katanas.

"That’s not how you treat a nice old lady, guys! Didn’t you parents- argh!" the hero is interrupted by a shoot, which he dodged in time. One of the thugs, dressed in a leather jacket, took out a gun and aimed at him while the others pushed the granny on the ground and stole her purse.

"Hey! That’s rude!" Wade exclaims as he runs towards the two boys; the one with the gun hits him, but he doesn’t almost feel that kind of pain anymore.

As he passes by the armed guy, he raises his katana to slice him open… at the last second, he remembers Spidey’s words and why he is doing all this, so he refrains himself and only cuts slightly the back of the thug’s hand, making him shout in pain and drop the pistol.

Spider-Man is ahead, stopping the other two criminals before they can climb a fence and run away. He webs them on the ground, retrieves the purse and swings back to where Wade, the leader, and the grandma are.

"Surrender, dude." Wade is saying with a big, smugly grin. "You don’t have a chance."

"What the fuck?!" the guy snarls. "What’s wrong with you and your stupid dress, faggot? Are you Spider-Man’s boyfriend?"

"Hey, hey, language! There are ladies here." Wade’s voice has become cold, dark, menacing. "You should be thankful I didn’t cut your hand off, asshole."

The old woman is crying in a corner, shaking and sobbing, and Spidey goes to her first to make sure everything is alright.

"Ma’am…?" He kneels next to her and hands her the purse with a gentle smile, which the granny shakily returns. "It’s okay, you are safe now."

"You stupid hag! It’s all your fucking fault!"

The thug is gritting his teeth and glaring at her; Wade, who has been distracted by Spidey’s kind behavior, sees the second gun coming out of the leather jacket too late.

"No!"

Spidey sees it, too, but he is not fast enough to shoot a web at the muzzle of the pistol before it fires; Wade knows that he will take the hit for the old lady, he is a _hero_ , it’s his job. No, not only that. He is a good person, he would do that even without wearing a spandex costume.

There is only one thing that _he_ can do. It’s easy, he has done it for years, almost for his whole life.

He raises the katanas, mind empty, devoid of any voice or noise, every muscle strained for a single purpose.

A blade slices the hand that is going to pull the trigger, the other cuts the thug’s head, making it fall on the ground with a ‘thud’ and roll towards a dumpster.

Spider-Man’s shout and the old lady’s horrified scream reach him and he finally comes to his senses, chest heaving, dark red blots on his pink dress, the criminal’s headless body resting at his feet.

The lady is crying harder, her breathing is erratic, and Wade slowly glances at her. She is pale and her hand is clutching the fabric of her cotton shirt right above the heart. Spidey is gently, but quickly, lifting her from the ground, his panic clear even behind the mask.

"Be strong, ma’am, I will take you to a hospital! Please, hang in there!"

He holds her close and tight - not too much, though, she needs to breathe _so much_ right now - and then looks at Wade.

The merc can’t return his stare, he’s too weak, his shame is too strong, the voices are screaming and making his brain bleed.

_You ruined everything, he hates you, look at what you have done, you are a monster, that old lady is gonna die, he hates you, you are a monster, a monster, a monster_

"Wilson."

He doesn’t look up; Spidey’s voice is near. It’s not sweet, it doesn’t carry reassurances, comfort, sympathy. It’s flat, with a well-hidden trace of rage.

"Wait for me at the apartment." A death grip falls on his shoulder, fingers digging into the spandex and skin. " _Don’t_ leave the city. We have to talk about this.” The grip becomes stronger, painful. “Did you understand?”

Wade nods.

"Good."

Then Spidey swings away with the old, panting lady safe in his arms.

Wade looks at the body, then at the two thugs webbed further into the alley. They are shaking and crying, one of them even pissed his pants.

Sirens resonate in the streets nearby; someone must have heard the commotion and called the police. The two survivor will tell the cops what they have seen and what really happened; nobody in their sane mind would think Spider-Man beheaded a man, anyway, so Wade leaves the scene and walks fast in the dark until he is near his apartment, hot shivers running through his body.

The voices never stopped shouting and crying and, once he is standing in the old bedroom, he starts doing the same.

He sees the guns he left there and takes one, pressing it under his chin like he has done the day before.

"Sorry…" he murmurs. "Sorry…"

And he shoots.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Spider-Man.

He is not besides the bed like last time; he is leaning on the wall in front of it, mask rolled up to show the straight line of his mouth, arms folded on his chest.

It’s like a dejà vù, Wade thinks bitterly, but this time the scene is cold, the mood not reassuring, the tension high.

He fucked up. He fucked up bad.

His weapons are stashed in a corner and there is still blood on the floor where he shot himself. It’s still dark outside and Wade hopes his expression - even if covered by the mask - cannot be seen. Because he is pretty sure he’s on the verge of tears, tears of shame and hatred for himself.

Spidey is staring at him and the sight is unsettling. The white, large lenses of his mask shine in the moonlight and he really looks like an insect ready to devour him, ready to jump forward to seize him in a painful bite.

The silence is unbearable. Wade hates silence. It lets pain, memories, emotions fill him to the brink, it makes the voices scream, it reminds him of his childhood, of the terrible, creepy quietness between he and his father, when they didn’t even want to know better each other and let slaps across the face and punches be their only way of communication.

So he breaks it, not trusting his voice to do a good job, but everything is better than this.

“Spidey…”

“I hope you have an idea,” the hero immediately cuts him off, as if he was waiting for him to start talking, “of what you have done.”

Wade swallows loudly and breathes deeply. In and out, out and in.

“I am pretty sure I do have an idea.” He glances at the swords, still filthy with blood, tossed in the corner with the guns and other weapons. “How… how is that lady?”

“She is alive.”

Spidey’s voice is cold; it doesn’t contain the same rage it had when he left him in the alley to bring the old woman to the hospital, but it has a strong edge, it cuts into Wade like a knife with every single word pronounced.

“I told you.” the merc whispers. “I told you nobody can help me.”

Spidey breathes deeply, too, but it looks more like he wants to calm himself not to snap rather than think better.

“I am tired of hearing that.” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. He walks over to the bed, over to Wade and his shame, and clenches his fists. “You broke _all_ the rules, you killed a man, an old lady had a heartattack and you simply _give up?_ ” He grabs Wade by the suit and snarls into his masked face: “You are not going to give up, not like this! You are going to retry and retry until you finally regain some shreds of that sanity you lost during your life and become someone better!”

Wade blinks, the voices as shocked as him; he didn’t expect this, he expected… hatred. A lot of punches, violence, screaming, a lot of angry Spidey. Spidey _is_ angry, but he is giving him a chance. Again. He is not telling him he doesn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore, on the contrary, he still wants to help.

“Why?” Wade’s first impulse is to be wary, to narrow his eyes, to get off the bed to glare at the hero. “Why are you still doing this? After what I did…”

“I already told you.” Spidey let him go, now calm, his voice containing a trace of gentleness. “I understand.”

“How?!” Wade yells, his breath erratic and fast. It’s not a panic attack, but it’s something close to it, and he needs his weapons, he needs the reassuring coldness of a gun in his hand, he needs to feel its weight and…

“Wilson, calm down.” Spidey looks worried, but his anger didn’t fade completely, it’s still there and he uses it to call him back to a normal condition. “Don’t hurt yourself again.”

“You can’t understand!” the merc ignores him, slamming a hand on the wall. “Maybe you would have become someone different without your family, but you would _never_ have become someone _like me!_ ” He bites his lower lip until it’s bleeding and when Spidey approaches to stop him, he yanks off his own mask.

“Look! Look again!” he screams grabbing his wrist. “You _can’t_ understand!”

The young man is used to his scarred face, but he still cringes when Wade screams at him and has to pull back using his super-strength, the grip around his hand painful and frightening.

“I don’t want your second chance!” Wade keeps yelling, nails digging into his face, never breaking eye contact with the hero. “Keep it for yourself and leave me alone! It would be wasted with me!” He finally looks down, at the blood dripping from his cheeks to the floor. His voice becomes a whisper. “I don’t want to disappoint you again.”

Silence falls in the room; only Wade’s tiny whimpers and the muffled traffic outside can be heard. Spidey stands still, watches him slid down against the wall until he is on the floor, then kneels next to him.

“Wade.”

The rage is gone, replaced by sympathy and kindness. Probably pity too, a voice cruelly tells Wade and he blushes, aware of his state, knowing he must look like shit, more than usual. He tilts his head towards the wall and listens to Spidey’s soft voice with lowered, dark eyes.

“You’re right, I can’t understand how _this_ ” and he touches his bare cheek with two finger, “feels like. But I do understand how you are feeling and I can’t bear to see you give up like this. It… it offends me.”

Spidey sighs and sits down, gently grabbing Wade’s chin to tilt his head and look at him. Wade still doesn’t lift his eyes, but the other man’s touch shut down the voices and gave him butterflies in the stomach. The emotions and warmth he felt the previous day come back and he whimpers, not wanting to feel them because they only mean problems and pain.

“We will fix this.” It sounds like a promise, _it’s_ a promise, and Wade finally looks up. He looks like a scared puppy, trembling and crying in a corner, and Spidey slowly moves his hand from his chin to his shoulder.

“You need to be strong, though. You need to keep going, control yourself, give yourself a chance. Just like I am doing now.” Spidey seems hopeful now. “Can you do this?”

The voices are screaming and talking fast again. They tell him to refuse, to hurt Spidey and run away, to yell at him again. To forget about this because it won’t work.

_You are going to kill someone else. Or to put someone else in danger._

_Remember what you said a few hours ago? That you can stop your hand? Yeah, that was bullshit, man!_

_Don’t be stupid. Spidey can insist how much he likes, but it’s never going to work. Not for you._

Wade leans back and stares at the young man. There is something in him and in the way he is looking at him. His eyes are covered, but he can _feel_ the intensity of his gaze. And the weight on his shoulder is infinitely better than the weight of  a gun in his hands.

He slowly raises one and reaches for Spidey’s face. He tenses up a bit, but doesn’t move, and when Wade’s fingers touches his bare skin, the shadow of a blush appears on it.

Wade wonders how that cheek would feel like under his lips; he knows it’s wrong to think this, it will lead only to trouble, but he imagines the scene and knows it would feel like heaven. Peace.

It’s when he slowly traces his fingers on the cheek that it hits him. His gloves are soaked with blood and he’s smearing it on the hero’s face. Long, thick, dark stripes, so clear on the pale flesh.

_Look. Maybe the next person you will hurt by mistake will be him._

Wade gasps and pulls away; Spidey must have felt the stickiness and is now wiping it off with the back of his hand. He doesn’t care, doesn’t ask, doesn’t judge.

“Sorry.” Wade croaks out, but the young man shakes his head and smiles, the first smile since the incident, but the merc doesn’t relax. How could he?

A sound startles them both. It’s a ringtone and Spidey fumbles with the lower half of his costume, taking out a cellphone from a web pocket he made inside the pants.

“It’s… it’s for Avengers calls and emergencies.” he explains sheepishly to a surprised Wade, then presses a button and answers: “Yes?”

Wade doesn’t hear the conversation, but whoever is on the other line has a dark, low tone. Spidey sighs, rubs his head, tries to speak multiple times; in the end, he listens quietly, humming in agreement or disagreement once in a while. He is still sitting next to Wade and at one point he looks at him, sure, confident, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

“Don’t worry, Cap, everything will go well.” His smile is directed at Wade and the merc’s breath hitches in his throat. “I want to do this.”

Captain America adds something else, Spidey says goodbye and the call ends. He and Wade are alone again, no third person interrupting the weird connection and dialogue they were having.

“What about you?” Spider-Man asks, tucking back the cellphone into the hidden pocket. “Do you want to try it again? Or give up? Again?”

Wade, who has been uncharacteristically silent for all this time, almost deafened by the voices, finally replies.

“I will disappoint you.” he looks at the weapons. “It’s something bigger than you and me, Spidey. The world needs a garbage man and I am it. I am always it.” He repeated those words to himself so many times, now, that they sound like a mantra, like a label he carries wherever he goes, an irrefutable truth.

But Spidey disagrees.

“Why do you say that?” he replies. “We always have a choice, Wade. You can choose, you can change. Forget destiny, fate, and karma if that’s what stuck you into this endless loop.”

A strange light appears in Wade’s eyes, a realization comes to him. Yes, karma… He has heard that word a lot, he has lived with that idea in his mind since… since… he doesn’t even remember. Maybe since he has become Deadpool. Maybe since his birth.

“Okay.” he whispers, slowly grabbing the mask he dropped on the floor when he took it off. “Okay, I… I will do it.” He glances up at Spidey, not a glare, just a look that doesn’t allow any protest. “If I fuck up this time too, then I want you to give up and forget about me. Everything will come back to normal and we will pretend all of this never happened. Okay?” He raises a finger and points it at Spidey. “Okay?”

The hero nods, a big, satisfied smile on his lips. Wade doesn’t want to hope too much, but he thinks it also looks proud and he already feels better.

They get up and he puts back on his mask, the fabric clinging to his scars both reassuring and annoying. His mind slowly crawls back from the dark pit it fell into and his quirky, obnoxious behavior comes back, a defensive mechanism that will prevent him to drown in despair and depression again. Maybe. Hopefully.

“So what’s the plan, sweetums?” he said, flashing a grin. Spidey is surprised by the sudden change, but ignores it and answers with a tired sigh: “Well, the city already knows what happened. Cap said the news and newspapers are already talking about it.”

“Was he… angry?” Wade’s voice contains regret again, which grows when Spidey answers with a hesitant tone: “No… not really. He just said to be more careful.”

“Bullshit.” Wade smiles bitterly, making the young man look at him in shock. “I am sure he told you to stop doing this. Just like I did.” He leans in to stare into the wide lenses. “He probably told you ‘Deadpool is dangerous. We told you it was a bad idea, come back to the Avengers Tower and leave him be!’” He used a gruff, serious tone to speak like Cap.

“He repeated me you can be dangerous, yes.” Spidey admits. He is not sheepish, though, he doesn’t look sorry, because he gave a clear answer to the soldier and he knows Wade _knows_. “He asked me if I was still sure about this and wanted to continue. You heard my response.”

“… Fine.”

They keep looking at each other until the merc’s smile turns into a smirk and acts again as if nothing happened.

“Well, what do you do when one of your patrols doesn’t go as planned and the mayor spills nonsense and shits on you?”

“I try to do better next time and show the citizens I can be trusted.” Spidey sighs, louder and more tired this time. “Sometimes I don’t leave my apartment hoping to dig a hole deep enough to shield me forever from that man’s words.”

“This time it was my fault.” Wade says, his tone so serious the hero can’t help but feel surprised for the thirtieth time. “They will hate me and that’s not new. They will just hate me more, say I am a menace worse than Spider-Man, that I am a vile, heartless monster and so on…” His smile is back and it clashes terribly with the words he has just said. “I am used to it, really! Don’t worry, sweetums, your reputation didn’t get worse.”

Spidey clears his throat and when he talks, his voice sounds clogged, weird, guttural: “Actually, they know we were together. Cap said they think it’s my fault, too, because I didn’t stop you.”

“Oh.”

God, why did he do that! Why did he have to kill that son of a bitch!

His cool façade crumbles and his eyes darken again; that single act of craziness cost him the relative inner peace he had found with Spidey, cost him the funny dialogues and jokes they were having before going into that alley. It cost him hope and as his eyes dart across the room, looking for a solution to help Spidey, to show him he can be good - he promised, he promised he will do this… - he simply cannot take it anymore. He already can’t take it anymore.

“O-Okay.” he babbles, rubbing his neck with a trembling hand. “I… I will speak to the people, if that can help. That can help, right?”

“Don’t worry, Wade.” Spidey has noticed the hopeful undertone in his voice and reassures him, even pats his arm. “I told you, we will fix this. We just need to show the citizens we can do good, that you didn’t mean what happened today and that it won’t happen again.”

“Easy!” Wade giggles nervously. “We could save some puppies! Everyone loves puppies! Nobody who saves puppies can be a bad person, right?”

“Right.” Spidey laughs softly with him. He is treating him gently, as if he is a frightened child who needs time to calm down and realize everything is going to be fine. It’s a fitting description, Wade thinks glumly and the voices agree with him.

“It’s almost dawn.” the young hero says looking out of the window. “We should wait some hours before going out again, people may still be… scared.” He looks at Wade and his voice becomes stern. “We will meet here again. Don’t leave the city. Don’t leave the _house_.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I am not going anywhere.” the merc stretches, a small, weak smile on his lips, and hums: “Too many emotions for today.”

“Yeah.” Spider-Man hops on the windowsill and rolls down the mask until his whole face is covered. “We both need some good, old sleep.” He rubs and pats his cheeks, trying to be awake enough to get back home safe and sound, without falling from his webs. “God, I need a pillow.”

“Wanna sleep here?”

Wade has blurted it out without thinking, the words have simply slipped out just like many other times before. He almost slaps a hand on his mouth while the inner voices groans and berates him.

“Uh.” Spidey laughs awkwardly, not sure how to reply without being rude. “No, thanks. Thank you, really, but… no.” He says just that, clearing his throat and looking away, looking outside, because probably that’s where he wants to be most right now, not there with Wade in that dirty, blood-soaked room.

“No problem! Really, sweetums, don’t sweat it.” Wade replies, voice too high, his smile too big and empty. “Just wanted to make sure, you know, I don’t want to hear you fell and split your face in half because you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”

“I will do fine. Don’t worry.” the young man hurries to put an arm outside, ready to shoot a web. “See you later, okay?”

“Wait!”

Spidey lowers his arm and waits patiently; the scarred man bites his lips - a bad habit that doesn’t help their already chapped state - and sputter: “I… I am grateful for this. I want you to know that.” He fidgets, plays with the bloody gloves, ignores the voices that tell him to shut up- _God_ , he would give anything to get rid of them forever! But this is not important now, he has to focus, he has to say the right things, he must not fuck this up too.

“I still don’t completely get why you are doing this, but I appreciate it. Really.” He hesitates, then his hands go up to his mask and he takes it off for the second time, this time with no yelling or rage or despair. He wants to be bare and show his sincerity, even if that means to expose his scars, his _ugliness_ , and remind Spidey of the failure and monster he is.

“Thank you.”

Spidey opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He stays still on the windowsill, looking at Wade who is looking at him trying not to put the mask back on, his grip around it so strong he’s going to tear it.

The merc waits - not patiently, but he waits, and for a moment he wonders how Spidey looks like under _his_ mask, if he is moved by his words or disgusted by his face. Maybe both. Maybe he really pities him, maybe he really is looking at him condescendingly, as the voices are suggesting.

He also wonders if he will ever see that face. Probably not, he thinks. Why would Spidey want to show _him_ his face? He wants to help him, that’s true, but there are rules too important, rules and precautions that cannot be broken. But Wade is glad to have told him “thank you” as Wade Wilson and not as Deadpool, he is glad to be barefaced right now, despite the shame and pain.

He realizes he is smiling and turns serious again, hoping he didn’t freak the hero out. However, Spidey is unfazed; on the contrary he says with kindness, finally breaking the silence, which in reality didn’t last too long: “I am happy to hear that, Wade. Thank you.”

And he smiles, too, Wade can see clearly the spandex move and fold around the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he mumbles. “Good. No problem.”

The young man raises the arm towards the opposite side of the street and says, his tone still gentle: “Later, Wade.”

And he swings away, leaving the merc alone in the room.

“Later.” he whispers, the familiar warmth in his chest stronger than the day before. Then it hits him, another realization occurs in his mind, and he runs to the weapons, grabs a katana and impales himself on it, groaning and hissing.

“Fuck!” he shouts. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ”

He thought it wasn’t so serious, that he wasn’t so deep into trouble, but he was wrong. He stabs his heart until it’s reduced to an useless piece of meat, fighting with the healing factor which quickly regenerates it; he cuts and slices it open, hoping the love he feels for Spider-Man will pour out together with his blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get very interesting next chapter. And I still don't know how long this fic is going to be. ;_; 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

“I hope you know what you are doing.”

Spidey lifts his gaze from the table to look at Cap, who is standing next to him, his tall figure shadowing the papers he was reading.

“About what?”

“Deadpool.” the soldier’s tone isn’t very gentle. “You read the newspaper today, didn’t you?”

“I _work_ at the Daily Bugle, Cap.” Spidey curtly replies, his attention shifting back to the documents left after the meeting. “Of course I read it.”

“Then you must know what that incident caused.” Cap grabs a chair, slides it across the floor until it’s near Spidey, then sits down. “And you must know - must have realized, at least - how difficult and dangerous handling Deadpool can be.”

The young hero hums half in agreement, half not, and pretends to be more interested in the papers than the discussion. Still, he doesn’t want to be disrespectful and quickly shoots Cap a look to let him know he’s listening.

The soldier sighs and continues: “You know we weren’t entirely sure about this before and we _still_ are not. However…” he shrugs, sighs again, and concludes with a defeated expression: “It’s something personal, it’s your idea and we cannot interfere into your business. And you are not damaging the Avengers - not yet, at least -, so we really can’t stop you.”

“Good.” Spidey cracks a smile, which is satisfied and a bit smug.

“However…” Caps repeats, causing him to glances up with worry. “I can suggest you something.” His face and tone are serious, his jaw tight, his eyes dark. “Don’t underestimate Deadpool’s issues. He may not be a bad person, but he is not… not…” He looks at the papers, at the smooth surface of the table, at the windows, looking for the right word.

“He is not well. And you must not overestimate _yourself_. I hope you will be able to give him some comfort and bring him on the right path, succeed where I failed, but you must be always careful with him.”

“I know, Cap.” Spidey passes a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. “I know that. But I also know there is hope for him and that I won’t give up - nor let him give up as he has done before.”

“That’s beautiful, son.” Rogers smiles at him, but it’s a faint, weak smile. “I still don’t understand why are you doing this, though. Pity is never a good reason to help someone, you know that, right?”

“It’s not pity!” Spidey exclaims, his voice high-pitched with indignation and horror. “It’s sympathy, understanding! I… I can relate to him.”

“You don’t kill people for hire.”

“I _did_ kill people.” the young man retorts coldly; his hands are crumpling the papers, he’s glaring at the table, lost into distant memories. “And I can see myself in him. He… he is a darker version of me.”

He looks up at Cap and whispers, fire in his eyes: “I don’t want to have him on my conscience too. I don’t want to abandon him and watch him become a monster. I had someone who helped me to choose the right path - my Aunt and Uncle. They were - and still are - my light in the mess that my life had become after acquiring these powers.” He shakes his head. “Wilson is alone and nobody ever really gave him a real chance. I want to change that.”

The last words have been pronounced with intentional sharpness and anger and they burn Cap, who blushes in embarrassment and looks away, his expression softened. A calm silence falls between them and Spidey rubs a hand on the wrinkled pages to smooth them. It’s obvious the conversation is over for him, but Cap says one last thing: “It’s very kind of you, son. I am proud.”

“Thanks.” Spidey keeps fixing the documents and doesn’t look up anymore.

“I wish you good luck.” Cap pats his shoulder, gets up and finally leaves the meeting room. The young hero lets out another sigh and looks at the sunlight entering from the windows. The sun is setting and he thinks it would be good to go to Wilson now, rather than wait until late night.

He slowly gets up, leaving the papers on the table, and puts on the mask; his eyes find the newspaper that the others have showed him with a hint of worry and that universally known face that means ‘told you!’. The headline makes his heart drop like the first time he read it.

_Deadpool the crazy mercenary beheads criminal!_

And the line below

_Spider-Man does nothing to stop him_

It will be hard to show the citizens it has been an accident, a single case that won’t be repeated. Especially because Jameson’s furious speech has been repeated multiple times, every time with different, harsher words, meanings, implications.

Spider-Man glares at the horrible words and adjectives used thorough the article, almost all of them directed at Deadpool, takes the newspaper and throws it into a bin. He knows something of Wilson’s life, enough to understand how it became so horrible and difficult. Still, he would be lying if he said he has a clear idea of what to do. They may be similar, but they are also very different, and even if Wilson _wants_ to listen to him, Spidey isn’t really sure what the best approach is. The previous night has been a disaster, but patrolling and saving people is what he does and there aren’t many other alternatives to help Wilson become a hero - or at least someone who doesn’t kill people.

“Maybe we should first… train? With his weapons, so he will know how to use them without killing anybody…?”

Learn _control_. That _may_ be a good idea. The young man smirks, rubbing his chin. What caused the incident last night was Wilson’s lack of control and that’s something Spider-Man had to learn with a lot of effort and concentration too. When he acquired his powers, he had to think twice before hitting a criminal, he had to concentrate to hold back his super-strength. Now it comes natural to him, his body and mind know when to punch with more force and when not.

Wilson must learn how to control different impulses, the need for blood, the need of hearing a gunshot or thrusting a blade through someone’s skull, but Spidey can help him with that. They have to deal with this problem first, the one that caused the incident in the first place, and _then_ they will be able to show New York that they are good guys - yes, even Deadpool.

“I should have thought about this sooner, damn…!”

He quickly opens a window and is out, swinging above New York and its citizens, who now look at him with fear, disappointment, and anger.

He knows they will look at Wilson even worse - with _hatred_ , as he told him - and he prays God and whoever is up there laughing at their pitiful lives to make this day better than the previous night. He knows how it feels like to be hated, but not like Wilson must experience every day.

He also prays that the merc listened to him and is still waiting at the apartment.

“If he left the city, I swear to God I…”

Thankfully his buff body on the bed is the first thing Spidey sees when he hops onto the windowsill and jumps into the now familiar room. He allows himself to smile.

“Good. Thank you, Wilson.”

Something has changed since he has left. There are more bloodstains on the floor and walls, something dark and squishy lies in a corner, the katanas have been tossed away and one is stuck above the bed.

Wilson is sleeping on it and the sheets are bloody, filthy; he is facing the opposite wall and Spidey can’t see his face, which is unmasked, that much he can tell.

God, did he hurt himself again? He looked crazy last night - _seriously_ out of his mind - and Spidey knows he always resort to violence, mostly towards himself, when he wants to escape from reality.

“Wilson?”  

Spidey walks slowly over to him, mouth dry, a bad feeling creeping over him, made worse by his already strong sixth sense.

He freezes when he finally sees Wilson; he is sleeping - deep breaths interrupted by low mumbles once in a while - and there is a huge hole in his costume, right on his chest. It’s bloody, just like the rest of his suit, and the scars there look painful and swollen.

“Wade?”

He gingerly reaches out for him and pokes his arm; his spider-sense goes crazy as soon as he does it, because Wilson gasps, sits up fast as lightning and aims a gun at his head. He probably was keeping it under his pillow.

“Hey, hey!”

 _‘Okay…’_ the young hero thinks as he swallows and tries to calm down to tune off the special sense. _‘He is still out of his mind.’_

“Wilson, it’s me.” He raises his hands and notices he has jumped back, on the wall. He walks down of it, arms still raised, and repeats: “It’s me. Lower the gun, now.”

The merc makes a weird, choked sound and does as he has been told, sweat on his forehead and bald head. His eyes are bloodshot and there is blood at the corner of his mouth, as if he has spitted it a lot.

“Are you okay?” Spidey frowns and the usual worry he always feels when he is with the merc grows stronger. It’s like the anxiety of a kindergarten teacher who wants to understand and help the most difficult child of the group, always putting bandaids on his wounds or scraped knees and asking if everything at home is okay.

“Y-Yes.” Wilson’s eyes dart across the room. It’s like he almost doesn’t remember where he is. “Yes, I… I’m fine. Just… bad dreams and… and you scared me.”

“Sorry.” Spidey rubs his neck, not knowing what to say. Should he mention the blood on the floor and Wilson’s chest? The… _unsettling_ vibe he is getting from this place tonight? Something went wrong when he left, he’s sure of it, and he doesn’t like the ideas and images flowing into his mind.

“See? I waited for you.” Wilson grins at him. His teeth are bloody, too, and his pale smile doesn’t last long when a fit of coughs shakes his whole body.

“Wilson, what happened?” Spidey blurts out before he can stop himself, but he is sincerely worried and doesn’t like this one bit. “Did you… did you shoot yourself again?”

“Hah!” the merc barks, his eyes dark and lifeless. “Shoot myself! That’s old and cliché! No, baby boy, I just…” he shrugs, getting up with a groan, a hand pressed on his chest where the scars are worse. He grins weakly again and concludes: “I wanted to see if a human being can become a pincushion, but I am afraid I failed that test. I am really good at failing tests, you know? Of any kind! And…”

His voice is high-pitched, words leave his mouth in half, pronounced too fast, and Spider-Man gently touches his arm, terrified by the implications, by the katanas and all that blood that now makes more sense.

“Hey.”

Wilson finally stops, breathing heavily, his features twisted in pain and panic.

“What?” he whispers. “Am I annoying you? Can’t keep up with what I am saying? Too many curses?” He smiles sheepishly. “Too many sweet nicknames?”

“It’s… it’s not that.” Spidey moves back and talks carefully, with caution; he doesn’t want to cause another attack like yesterday. “You are just a little bit nervous. Calm down. Breathe and… and let’s leave this room.” He shoots a glare at the blood and that… squishy _thing_ in the corner, as if it’s their fault Wilson is so lunatic tonight. “You can bring your weapons.”

The merc blinks, finally his fear - _‘those nightmares must have been really bad…’_ \- replaced by surprise and relief.

“Really?!” and he looks like a child who can play with his toys again. “All of them?!”

“Only the katanas and two guns.” Spidey goes back to the window, longing for fresh air, because the one in the room is starting to get unbreathable. “We are not going on patrol tonight. We will train.”

Wilson, who is putting back his mask, raises a hairless eyebrow, confused. Apparently the change of topic and the new conversation is doing good things to him, he looks more relaxed and his eyes are back to normal.

“Hey, sweetie, I don’t need more training! I can fight super well, better than you for sure!” He pouts, adjusting the mask and belt. “No, really, you said we had to show New York how awesome and good we can be! What’s this training thing now?”

“It will help to show New York how awesome and good we can be.” Spidey deadpans. “I don’t want to teach you how to fight better. I want to teach you how to fight without killing people.”

Wilson looks at him as if he has just said a heresy.

“That’s… that’s not possible!” he squeaks, fumbling to take the blades, two guns, and then join Spidey at the window. “How… how am I supposed to do that?!”

“Jeez, I don’t know!” the young hero chuckles seeing his comical expression, made funnier by the big eyes of the mask. “Maybe you could avoid to shoot people in the _head_ and aim for their _legs_ instead? That’s a good way to keep them alive.”

“B-But…”

“You need to control yourself.” Spidey explains more seriously. He gestures to him with a hand to hop on his back like the day before. “And I am going to teach you how to do that before we start patrolling again.”

“But… but weapons are supposed to _kill!_ ” Wilson looks at the guns in the holsters and sniffs. “I mean… I… I never used them to do anything else…” He frowns, suddenly suspicious. “And what do you know about control, web-head? You don’t use guns or blades!”

“I have super-strength, you doofus.” Spidey sighs, feeling a bad headache come. “I actually had to learn how to hold it back, you know? If I hit someone with my full powers, I can kill them.” He looks at Wilson with an impatient look. “So, want to try it? I won’t let you patrol with me if I can’t be sure you are able to control yourself and your…” he clears his throat, mastering all the tact he can. “… your urges.”

“They are not urges.” the merc’s tone is dark again, the mask looks almost scary in the dim light slowly becoming darkness. “It’s… it’s a bad habit.”

Spidey feels bad for the word he used and pats the other man’s shoulder, hoping to cheer him up again. It’s strange to say it, but he misses the laid-back, wacky guy from the day before. It wasn’t creepy, it wasn’t worrying, it wasn’t _sad_ , and he didn’t feel so hopeless. The incident in that alley and its consequences shocked Wade, Spider-Man can see this, and the whole situation became more complicated, as if it wasn’t already pretty bad before. He knows Wade lost even more hope about all this ‘help me become a hero’ thing and he has to be patient.

 _‘Come on, you can do this.’_ and he is talking both to himself and to Wade. _‘Just focus and be strong.’_

“Then it will be easier to get rid of it.” he smiles and squeezes the merc’s shoulder before letting it go.

“Let’s go. We need to find a quiet place.”

Wilson’s voice is near his ear as he slowly puts his legs around his waist and wraps his arms on his chest.

“Aw, Spidey, want me to ride you again?”

“Don’t start with this.” the hero grumbles, shooting a web and finally - _finally_ \- leaving that suffocating room and the stench lingering in it. “I am going to drop you for real this time.”

“Can’t do that! I am glued to you, sweetums!”

Spidey sighs loudly, trying to ignore the big man grinding against his back and shouting silly, crude jokes in his ear to be heard in the middle of their swinging.

There should be a construction site nearby, he saw it often during his patrols. That should be the perfect place to train in peace, without curious bystanders, and Wilson would have a lot of space to swing his swords.

The merc is still shouting, this time narrating the adventures he had in Europe and in some parts of South America. It’s a good distraction from the stares and bad words coming from the streets and Spidey prays that the scarred man will keep talking until they are alone, where nobody can keep glaring at them.

He is probably talking so much for that same reason, aware of the way the citizens are reacting to their presence. The young hero understands it, it’s a defensive mechanism he also uses, but for Wilson is different, it’s something he has to do _always_ because he rarely stops to be Deadpool.

 _‘He has nobody.’_ Spidey thinks, repeating the same words he told Captain America earlier. He thinks about the way the merc thanked him the day before and his face, those sad, scared eyes, make his heart clench in pain again. _‘What does he do when he is alone, apart from killing himself and talking to no one? Does he sleep a lot or the cancer doesn’t let him?’_ He gulps, suddenly feeling guilty. _‘Would have he slept better if I had accepted his offer?’_

He would like to ask, to know this strange man better, but it would be rude and he knows Wilson doesn’t always like to talk about his problems. So he stays silent, doesn’t interrupt him, and just answers or reacts to his questions and stories. He can feel his hot breath on his cheek, his strong arms on his chest, the muscled legs wrapped around his waist, he can hear his voice so cheerful and relaxed, but also so _empty_ and not really _here_.

_‘I wonder if he is feeling well now…’_

  
  
  
\- - -  
  
  


The voices give him hell during the trip. He just wants to enjoy Spidey’s presence and the way his body feels against his, but his mind is buzzing, screaming, making too much noise. He has to talk loud not only to be heard in the strong blowing wind, but also to hear _himself_ , to ignore the endless conversation going on inside his head.

People are looking at them, too. They are pointing, glaring, shaking their heads, only a few of them don’t have bad emotions in their eyes as they swing above their heads. Everything is fast and blurry, but Wade is good at seeing and recognizing those stares, the _negativity_ coming from others.

He stops grinding and squeezing the hero’s body soon enough. He is not used to this, to being this close to someone, and his own body is reacting in embarrassing ways. He has already shown Spidey how crazy and desperate he is, he doesn’t need to give him further things to worry or be disgusted about.

“Where are we going, sweetie?” he asks as they leave the most populated parts of the city. “What’s on that clever mind of yours?”

“A construction site.”

Wade makes a disappointed sound.

“But that’s not funny at all!” he lowers his voice to whispers in the hero’s ear: “Not _romantic_. Why don’t you take me somewhere nicer?”

He is trying to be smooth, to seem calm and relaxed, but he’s still shaken by the furious stabbing he tortured his body with, by the realization that hit him as soon as Spidey had left the apartment. He should distance himself from the young man, should stop hitting on him, but it’s difficult, it’s _impossible_ , Spidey is his only source of peace and he can’t enough of his voice, understanding, help.

“We have to _train_. No time for romanticism.”

“Aww!”

They arrive at a small construction camp; there a sign on the fence that announces what it’s being built - some new apartments - and the estimated date of completion.

Spidey swings over the fence and lands at the spacious center of the site, devoid of rubbles and foundations.

“Come on, get off.”

Wade whines and unwraps his legs and arms; he is quick enough to press a chaste kiss on the hero’s cheek, making him turn around with a scowl.

“Sorry.” he giggles.

_You are digging your own grave._

_It will hurt more this way._

“Shut up.” he growls and Spidey’s frown turns into a worried stare.

“What?”

“Not you.” Wade grimaces, regretting the choice of words. He doesn’t need to remind Spidey he is dealing with a psychotic man who can hear voices in his head.

“Don’t listen to them.” the hero says, not looking scared or uncomfortable. “Ignore them and focus on me, okay? On the training.”

“… Okay.”

Spidey shoots him a curious look and finds the courage to ask him what is bothering him; he even lowers his voice a bit, maybe fearing to offend him or be inopportune.

“Do… do they tell you when to kill? I mean… Do they scream or…” he makes a weird gesture with his hands, unable to express himself, and Wade snorts, amused by the young man’s dorkiness, but also mortified by what he is going to admit.

“Yes, they scream louder when it’s time to kill someone.”

“Oh. I… I see.” Spidey clears his throat, looking for something good to say. Apparently he finds it, because he smiles and replies: “I am sure we will shut them up once and for all. You just need assistance. I think this will help.”

“I don’t hear them when I am with you.” Wade whispers, timid and bashful; he doesn’t even dare to look at Spidey, who clears his throat again and moves awkwardly a foot in the dust and soil.

“That’s good.” he manages to say, sounding embarrassed, and Wade would punch himself- no, better, he would stab himself other fifty times. His heart can regrow, after all.

“Let’s… let’s begin now. So…” Spidey scratches his chin, studying the place, then goes pick up a little column, which he lifts without effort and places in front of Wade.

He shoots his webs on it to create some sort of mannequin, a target with legs and arms tall enough to be considered human-sized.

The limbs are tick, large, and Spidey looks at the with pride before turning to the merc.

“Okay, now! Shoot at it.”

Wade simply looks at him, in complete silence, and the hero pouts.

“Hey! I did my best, okay? I know, it’s not a masterpiece, but it will do fine. Just pretend it’s an adversary and shoot it.”

The mercenary hums, then rummages into one of his pockets and shows triumphantly a red marker.

“It needs more details!”

He draws a happy face on the puppet’s ‘face’, snickering when he starts adding penises, until Spidey has to smack his hand away.

“Stop being a child and shoot!”

Wade shrugs, takes a gun and doesn’t even aim, putting a bullet right through the mannequin’s head. The web aren’t strong enough to stop it and it flies past the puppet, hitting some bricks far ahead.

“It wasn’t that-”

“Why did you shoot the head?”

Wade turns to Spidey, frowning with confusion.

“Sorry?”

“Why the head? Why not an arm or a leg?” Spidey is frowning too, arms folded over his chest. “I didn’t tell you to _kill_ him, but you assumed that was the first and only thing to do.”

“Weapons kill. _I_ kill.” Wade growls, anger and panic bubbling inside him, the voices slyly coming back. “I’ve been doing it for almost all my life and when you tell me to shoot, I do it to kill.”

“That is going to change.” Spidey promises and he gently pushes the merc a few meters away from the puppet.

“I will throw it in the air, now, and I want you to shoot at it without hitting any vital part, okay?”

Wade, still feeling nervous, only nods and waits for the hero to grab the pillar with the web puppet on it and toss it up above his head.

This time he takes one second to aim and then presses the trigger, every gesture automatic and natural.

Spidey catches the pillar, grunting, and places it back on the ground, looking for the second bullet hole.

It’s on the chest, right on the heart.

“So?” Wade opens his arms. “Is it dead?”

“Yeah, it would be pretty dead.”

The merc’s face darkens, that much is clear even with the mask, and his mood gets worse. Shooting at the head and heart came natural to him, he didn’t think about it twice, even after Spider-Man’s reprimand. His hand and finger almost moved alone, his fucked up brain decided to shoot right there from habit. He isn’t used to using his guns or katanas in a different way, he isn’t even sure he can actually learn how to use them  to not murder anyone.

He is supposed to kill, it’s his job. That’s his nature… right?

Spidey seems to think differently, though, because he doesn’t hesitate and tells him to try again.

His tone is hard, but not rude or angry, he is sure about this and his success, so Wade just sighs and shoots at the flying pillar-doll until he has to reload his gun.

There are several bullet holes on the puppet, now, and the new ones are all on non-vital parts, like the legs, shoulders and arms.

“Good!” Spider-Man looks genuinely happy, satisfied, _proud_ , and Wade can see the smile beneath the mask and would like to admire it fully, bask in it and in the feeling of having made him content.

“I… I had to concentrate a lot.” he admits, his voice low because he doesn’t like saying this. “I don’t think I can do this during a battle, when someone is threatening me or… or an old lady, like yesterday.”

 _‘Or you.’_ he thinks, but he doesn’t say that out loud.

Spidey is still smiling, not worried at all, not anymore.

“It will become easier with a little more training. Don’t worry. Let’s try with the katanas.”

Wade puts the gun back into the holster, unsheathes the blades and approaches the pillar, but the hero stops him with a hand on his chest.

“No, we need to do something else for this. You will fight against me.”

“ _What?_ ”

_No!_

_You will kill him!_

“I-I can’t.” Wade steps back, far from Spidey’s touch, far from him. He doesn’t trust himself, hell, he never did, but since yesterday it’s even worse. He doesn’t trust his fucking brain and can’t believe Spidey _does_.

“Don’t worry, we will be careful. I won’t get too near and you will just have to concentrate, like you did with the puppet.” the young man looks at the blades and touches the edge of one of them. “Even if you cut me a little, I can heal from it quite easily. It’s not a bullet wound. So don’t worry too much, okay?”

“It’s dangerous.” Wade shouldn’t be the one saying this and for a moment he thinks the hero lost his mind, just like him. “Spidey, I could… I could get too much into it and hurt you bad.”

“Pfft.” the hero looks at him with an amused expression. “A lot of guys tried to kill me in the past and I am still here. I am fast and I will avoid easily your blades. And if you lose control, I will web you on the ground and let you cool down a little. Deal?”

The merc whines, bites his lips, then slowly nods, still not entirely sure, but ready to try, to trust, if not himself, at least Spider-Man.

“Pretend I am a criminal!” the hero shouts as they start a weird dance where neither of them hits the other. “Don’t try to kill me, try to immobilize me or make me inoffensive!”

“That’s not easy! Criminals don’t have butts so glorious!”

At first, it goes smoothly. Wade can still recognize Spidey, even in the heat of the strange battle they are doing, and he always stops his hand before he can cut him. He aims for his limbs, not for the head, but he probably manages to do so because it’s Spidey and not really an adversary. The hero is really fast and agile, jumping from point to point, shouting advices or jokes, and Wade admires his body, the lean neck and long legs, the muscles shifting under the spandex, the graceful movements. They even laugh together and for a moment everything seems perfect.

Then it becomes a race among the foundations and big pillars which resemble a maze; Spidey jumps and crawls on them and Wade has to run and never look away from him to keep track of his movements. The training slowly becomes a game in his mind, a game he wants to win - that he _has to_ win - and when Spidey finally lands on the ground he strikes down, barely missing him.

“Wade.” Spidey warns, jumping back with a gasp, but the merc doesn’t hear his voice, doesn’t see him anymore. The voices are yelling and cursing in his head, saying how funny and good it would be to stab something that isn’t his heart, how relieving it would be to see blood on the dirt that isn’t his. They have forgotten about Spider-Man, too, and Wade loses the last trace of control with a mad shout and a slice through the air, just a few inches from the hero’s face.

“Wade! Calm down!”

Spidey shoots a web and the older man finds himself on the ground, long, white threads tied around his wrists, a heavy pressure on his chest.

The hero is looking down at him, searching for something on his masked face.

“It’s me! Do you recognize me?”

Wade blinks one, two times, then something akin to horror twist his features and he bows his head in shame.

“It’s okay.” Spidey whispers, removing the hand from his chest and kneeling down to tear off the webs. “It’s okay.”

“I…” Wade lets out a shaky breath, eyes darting across the site. “I-I told you it was dangerous.” His tone becomes dark, angry, bitter. “Why did you trust me?”

“Because you don’t trust yourself.”

“Fuck, Spidey, you are going to _die!_ ” the merc snaps, sitting up and grabbing the hero by the suit. “I don’t want to kill you! You are the only person on this fucking planet I don’t want to kill!”

“I am not going to die.” Spidey replies with confidence, a frown creasing his mask.“This was only the first day of training, you just need to…”

“To leave you alone! That’s what I need to do!” Wade scrambles to his feet, sheathes the blades, mumbling something under his breath, talking with the voices which whisper cruel things. Spidey’s voice is clear enough to cut through them, but Wade ignores it and keeps shaking his head, deaf to his protests.

“I fucked up again, Spidey. We talked about this, remember? It’s over, let’s… let’s forget about this and…”

“No! I won’t let you throw everything away!” the hero yells, grabbing his chin to look at him. “I know you can do this!”

“And I know I _can’t_.” Wade smacks his hand away, hunching over himself as if he has been punched in the guts. “Just leave me alone.” he lowers his eyes, his voice rough and choked. “I will be fine.”

“No, you will hurt yourself again and again and _again_.” the young man’s tone is gentler, patient. “Please, let’s sit down for a sec. We are going to rest for a while and then try a second time.”

“No.”

“Wade, _please_.”

When the merc refuses again, Spidey sighs and rolls up his mask up to the nose to rub tiredly his cheeks and breath fresh air. Wade does the same, not caring about the scars right now, and they stay in silence like that, with their suits dirty with dust and their heavy hearts.

“I don’t want to give up on you, Wilson.” the hero whispers after long minutes filled with sorrow and gloom, all coming from Wade. “This was just the first day. I am sure you can ignore the voices and…”

“It’s not just the voices.” the scarred man murmurs, arms wrapped around himself, his eyes low; he is looking at his feet, not at Spidey, and he knows it’s wrong, but he can’t really return his look now.

“I think it’s not just the voices. Maybe you were right.” he shrugs and starts gnawing at his nails, like an anxious child. His teeth scrape the sensitive skin, though, and blood starts dripping down. “Maybe they are really urges. After all, I _am_ clinically insane.”

“Stop, don’t hurt yourself.” Spidey says, ignoring his words, more worried about the bites on his fingers. There is blood and pus caused by the peeled sores and open scars; the hero hisses, knowing it must hurt, and looks around in search of something that can bring the merc some comfort.

There is a drinking fountain next to a work table, probably used by the workmen to refresh a bit. Spidey takes the merc there, really feeling like a mother who guides her sad, sick son, and opens the valve, letting the cold water flow. He puts Wade’s hand under the stream and asks, unsure if this can really make him feel better: “Is… is this okay?”

But Wade’s eyes are lifeless once again, he is staring at the void, not really seeing anything, and the young man doesn’t ask more, just keeping the hand under the water until all the blood is gone.

He turns off the valve and looks at the fingers; the healing factor is closing the scars and some more scabs are appearing. It doesn’t seem pleasant, but at least there is no more pus.

“Why do you _always_ hurt yourself?” Spidey sighs; he gasps a little when Wade pulls him towards himself, his grip shaky and his lips trembling.

“W-What?” the hero babbles. Wade can see the blush on his cheeks, the slight, confused frown, and he slowly removes his mask, the scars and bumps perfectly visible under the moonlight, perfectly visible to be seen by Spidey, who gently, but decisively, tries to free himself.

“We should try that training again, Wilson, you…”

There is a sound in the distance, which Spidey turns to and Wade ignores, grabbing the hero’s chin and forcing him to look back at him again.

“What-”

_Don’t!_

_You are going to regret it._

He _is going to regret it!_

But Wade ignores the voices and presses his lips on Spidey’s, moaning when they touch, not caring about what will happen next. He needs to do this, to lose himself completely in this sensation, to feel Spider-Man before it will end. Because this… friendship between him and the hero is going to end after this, he knows it. Spidey will push him away, hate him, call him insane, spit on the ground and abandon him.

Wade moans louder, the sound half a sob, half a whine of pleasure, and his other hand - the one not holding the young man’s chin - goes down to touch his back and press him closer.

The lips are soft, their taste is both sweet and pungent, and the merc tentatively opens his mouth, expecting Spidey to push him away, but joyous that he hasn’t yet.

He barely hears for a second time the weird sound from before; he is too busy burning in his memory every single detail of this, the way Spidey taste, his smell and the tiny gasps he makes every time Wade’s tongue licks his mouth.

Then the sound becomes clearer, louder, and they finally realize it’s a _snap_. A bright flash follows.

Wade and Spidey wake up from the strange trance the kiss has made them fall into, and turn quickly their heads towards the light.

There is a group of snickering teenagers hidden behind some boxes, their smartphones held high in front of their faces. The snaps and flashes continue, as one of them laughs: “Wow, we came here for some fun and look at what we found!”

“The Daily Bugle is gonna pay gold for these, man!”

Wade stares numbly at the phones, slowly realizing they are taking pictures of his face, that they took pictures of him and Spider-Man _kissing_ , and probably heard things they shouldn’t have heard.

“Ugh, Deadpool is really disgusting like they said…” a girl mutters while checking the photos she took. Her friend next to her sneers and takes another one, replying: “I wonder if Spider-Man feels like puking.”

Wade turns away and picks up the mask from the ground; his teeth are chattering due to the panic, rage, and humiliation flowing through him like liquid fire. As soon as he puts back on the piece of clothing, the teenagers complain and make crude jokes.

“Kiss him again, Deadpool!”

“One last photo for the Daily Bugle, come on!”

“It can’t be that difficult, Spider-Man, just hold your breath!”

The hero, until now too shocked to react to the whole situation, opens his mouth and heads towards them, but stops when he sees Wade run away.

“W-Wait!”

The teenagers burst into a malicious laughter and they run away too, crouching to pass through a hole in the fence that surrounds the construction site. Wade is at their opposite side and he has to climb the gate to get away.

He doesn’t look back, but he hears Spidey calling for him; he is not chasing the children, he is not thinking about the photos, but Wade would prefer that. He can’t bear to look at him now, so he keeps running as soon as he lands on the sidewalk.

There are many alleyways in this part of the city and he hides in one, the darkest and littlest, hoping Spider-Man didn’t see him.

_You crazy asshole!_

_Why did you do that?!_

_Why did you kiss him?! You ruined everything!_

“Wade!”

“Why isn’t he going after those brats?” Wade growls. He distractedly feels the weight of a gun in his hand, he doesn’t even remember to have taken it out of its holster. “They are gonna sell those photos and tomorrow…”

“Wade, please! Where are you?”

_The Avengers will be angry as fuck. Not only with you, but with Spider-Man too._

_Why do you always have to ruin other people’s lives?_

_Why can’t you just do your goddamn job and keep torturing yourself? You can’t die permanently, but at least give the world some peace._

“The world doesn’t deserve it…” Wade snarls as he crawls further into the darkness of the alley and hides behind a dumpster. The stench of rotten food and piss would be unbearable for anyone else, but he is used to worse.

_Then do it for Spidey._

_You shouldn’t have asked for his help._

_You are a mercenary and you will always be one. So forget about this shit, leave the city, leave Spidey alone._

_And possibly kill yourself more often. You know your voice is obnoxious and annoying._

Wade chokes down a broken sob, clutching the gun in his hands; he can’t hear Spider-Man anymore, he must be looking for him far away, so he puts the gun into his mouth, the cold metal feeling so ugly after the kiss, and shoots.

It’s not the same peace Spidey’s presence gives him, but it’s the only one he will ever get.


	6. Chapter 6

_He will come here, you know._

_He is not stupid. He will understand where you went._

“Shut up.” Wade growls while stuffing the dirty costume he was wearing into the bag and taking the spare one. “The weapons and money are already packed, when he will come here I will be already gone.”

_He can swing pretty fast, though._

“Maybe he _already_ has been here while I was laying in that alley with three bullets in my head!” Wade finally manages to put on the upper half of the costume with shaky hands and breathes deeply, trying to calm himself to go faster. “After all, I stayed in there for a while!”

_Yeah, you killed yourself for an entire hour. Pretty… sad. All that drama just because you couldn’t stop yourself from smooching Spidey._

“Shut up!” the merc roars, throwing a boot against the wall. “I am trying to concentrate here!”

_Keep trying, dude._

Wade whines and hops on one foot until the boot finally fits. He can feel the loud rush of blood in his ears, together with the voices’ snickers, which remind him so much of those teenagers. Those _brats_ who took the photos…

“Little fuckers…” he mutters through his teeth. “Little pieces of shit…”

_I can already see the headline of the Daily Bugle!_

“Spidey stopped them. I am sure of it.” Wade smiles triumphantly, as if he has found the right thing to say to the voices to finally shut them up. “Yeah, he didn’t waste his time looking for me! He just called my name two or three times, then went to stop those guys! Why should he even come here?”

_He is more stubborn than you. He really wants to help._

_Yeah and he looked more worried about you than the photos._

“Impossible.” the scarred man puts back on the belt, shaking his head. “Impossible. He doesn’t want those pictures to get published. Can you imagine the shitstorm they would cause?” He lets out a sad laugh, similar to a bark. “ _‘Spidey and Deadpool kiss under the moonlight!’_ Who the hell would want to be seen kissing _me_?”

_His reputation already sucks. Hell, it sucked even before that accident in the alley where you beheaded that thug._

_And what can he do, anyway? Punch those guys until they surrender and delete the photos? Threaten them? Smash and break their cellphones? The articles would be even worse in that case._

_He can deal with some embarrassing photos, not with a bunch of kids hit and punched only because they were lucky bystanders._

“I hate you.” Wade whimpers and even if the sound is low and almost comical, the words are sincere and full of real loathing.

He finally finishes to prepare and takes the bag, already mumbling all the possible escape routes from the city, the roads he can take without being seen or noticed, and walks towards the window.

He should have left since from the beginning, without asking for any help, because, as he has repeated a lot of times, nobody can help him.

He is so lost into his thoughts that his mind realizes late that there is something peeking into the room from a corner of the window.

“Thank God!” Spidey scrambles into the apartment, the eyes of his mask wide, his chest heaving. “I feared you already left the city, I looked for you _everywhere_ , then I thought you could still be here and…” He catches his breath, sighs, and rests against the wall, rubbing a hand on his face, which is partially uncovered.

Wade is staring at him, shock and panic sticking him on the floor like glue. He is shaking, too, and his hands itches near the holsters, the voices laughing and mocking him.

_See?! Told you!_

_God, this is so fucking embarrassing. You should have stayed in that alley and shot yourself until dawn!_

“Wade…” Spidey begins, his tone soft, his eyes casted down as he rubs his neck and shuffles his foot on the floor. It’s a gesture he has done before, Wade recognizes it, it’s familiar and his panic grows.

“Listen… what happened at the construction site… I…”

“Go away!”

Spidey looks up with urgency and jumps on the wall when he sees the gun pointed at him. Wade is holding it up with great precision, his hand is shaking no more; his masked face expresses only fear and rage, though, and everything in him screams of a deep uneasiness and mental instability.

“Why are you here?!” he roars, stomping a feet on the ground. “Why the fuck are you here?!”

“I… I wanted to…”

“The photos! What about the photos?”

When Spidey shakes his head to tell him he didn’t went after those, Wade shoots at the ceiling and dust falls from it like when he first met the hero in this apartment, when he was trying to leave the city just like now.

“I told you to forget about me! To… to stop helping me! I told you twice, no, maybe more! But you kept insisting, saying that you didn’t want to give up and… and…” the merc whines, looking away for a moment, and Spidey slowly walks down the wall to talk better. Wade sees him, though, and aims at him again, making him raise his hands defensively.

“Leave me alone.” he growls and there is no hesitation nor doubt in his voice. It’s like he is talking to an adversary, to someone who will be eliminated if still in his way. “It’s over. I fucked up too many times and I am _tired_. I just want to… to give up.”

“Wade, you didn’t ruin anything. Those pictures are not…”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

He shoots and the room is suddenly filled by the hero’s yell of pain, but he doesn’t really _hear_ it and finds himself grabbing the Spider-Man costume and growling near the young’s man face: “Don’t follow me, don’t try to stop me! I don’t want to see you for a long fucking time! And when I will come back here in New York - after a month, a year, ten years, _I don’t care_ \- then we will pretend nothing ever happened. I will be the usual obnoxious, annoying mercenary without brain, you the wonderful hero who defends his city.” He smells blood when he presses his cheek against Spidey’s and asks with a furious, guttural voice: “Is that clear?”

“Wade…!”

“Is that _clear_?”

“… Yes.”

The bullet hit the young man in the shoulder and the wound isn’t serious. His healing factor - albeit weak and not comparable to the mercenary’s - will take care of it in not much time. Wade wants to pull away and finally run before Spidey can find him again, but now that he is so close to him, now that he is touching him again…

_First you shot him and then you want to kiss him again? Very romantic!_

_Smooth._

_I am sure he will love you even more._

_Do it, let’s see what will happen._

Wade grits his teeth and presses his face into Spidey’s neck; the hero gasps, but says nothing and lets him nuzzle his bare cheek, while hearing the labored breath, the panting, the desires that are tearing Wade apart.

“Fuck…” the merc sobs pressing the masked lips on the pale skin. “Fuck…!”

Spidey is still, waiting for his next move; his mouth is partially open, he is slightly sweaty and Wade puts his lips on that wet mouth, not caring about the spandex of his mask that doesn’t let him enjoy the kiss like the first time.

Then he moves lower, kissing the chin, the neck, coming back to the cheek and pressing himself against the hero, a knee between his legs, his hands trailing down his body; when he starts grinding against him with a moan, Spidey reacts putting a hand on his shoulder with alarm.

“Wade…” he starts, but the merc growls and finally pulls away, his mind dizzy, the voices reduced to dark whispers.

He looks at the hero, at his blood-soaked shoulder, at that mouth he would kiss forever, at the big eyes of the mask, and steps back towards the window with a whimper.

“Wait!”

But he is already out and Spidey’s fingers only brush his ankle while he leaves the apartment without looking back.

There is a trailer he owns just nearby, one he uses to travel across the state. Spidey is wounded, he won’t be able to follow him and once he will be out of the city…

_What the hell were you doing before?_

_Did you seriously want to make out with him?_

_Why do you keep hurting yourself? He was clearly disgusted, he was about to stop you._

“I know.” Wade murmurs as he runs through the alleyways to avoid being in the streets. The parking lot isn’t far, he is finally safe from all those dangerous emotions, feelings he can’t afford to feel.

He realizes there are tears streaming down his marred face, blurring his sight, but he doesn’t care, he keeps running, panting and growling and sobbing.

He already misses Spider-Man’s voice and touch.  
  


\- - -  
  


There is a newspaper open on the table when Spider-Man steps into the meeting room the next day.

Cap and the other Avengers are sitting around it and each of them has a different expression on their face.

The super soldier’s is dark, worried, probably a little disappointed and shocked too. Tony is showing a huge smile, barely covered by a hand, just like Jessica and Carol, who are giggling and snorting without even hiding it.

Clint, Natasha, Thor and Bruce are the most confused; they look at Spidey like he is some sort of alien, or better, like they just realized what kind of person he really is.

“We are not here to judge you.” Cap starts, placing his hands on the table and pressing his fingers together. “We would just like… an explanation.”

“There isn’t that much to explain, Steve.” Tony laughs and even Thor’s lips curl upwards under his gold beard. “These pictures are pretty clear.”

“Still, I wish to hear what he has to say about it.”

The young hero quietly walks over to the table and takes the newspaper. His expert eyes see all the little mistakes in the photos, but their content doesn’t disturb him. He studies each one of them, he sees the way Wade was holding him, his desperate expression written all over his scars. With a sigh, he folds the Daily Bugle and looks up at Cap and the others.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” the soldier hisses under his breath as Clint intervenes: “At least tell us how it happened! The article doesn’t explain much, it just says that you and Deadpool were in a construction site and some teenagers took those photos.”

“Well, that’s how it happened.”

“Man, he is kissing you hard in here.” Jessica snorts flipping a page and pointing at one small picture. “Why did he do that anyway?”

“Did you kiss him back?” Tony giggles and Spidey actually blushes; it’s visible for all, because he is not wearing his mask, and everyone laughs at his flustered face, Cap excluded.

“Son, this is your business and we respect that, but the media and the citizens aren’t actually happy about this. Maybe they would have been if that incident in the alley hadn’t happened, but…” Steve sighs and shakes his head in a tired manner: “But it _happened_ and now they are convinced there is a love story between you and Deadpool, that he is corrupting you, and that you are really a menace, like the mayor has been screaming since this morning when the photos were published.”

“They can think whatever they want. It’s not like they loved me that much before.” Spidey replies quite coldly, but he looks tremendously bashful when Tony chortles: “Deadpool sure loves you, though!”

“Did you talk with him?” Natasha asks and when Spidey nods, she adds: “So? How did it go?”

“He shot me.”

“He _what?_ ”

The others look shocked too, now, Tony even guilty, as if his laugh was offensive, considered the more serious circumstances.

“Are you in pain?” Thor inquiries looking Spidey up and down with concern. “Where did he hurt you?”

“On the shoulder, but it’s fine!” the hero hurries to say, knowing too well how his companions can get angry when one of them is hurt by someone else. “He didn’t do it on purpose! He was out of his mind, he wasn’t thinking straight.”

“That was undeniable since from the beginning.” Tony jokes nodding to the newspaper; Steve hushes him with a glare and asks Spidey with evident anxiety: “Where is he now? Son, if he really was so… so unwell, then he is dangerous. We can’t let him be in the city in those conditions.”

“He is dangerous for _himself_.” Spidey corrects, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. “You have no idea of what was inside his apartment! He… he tortures himself, he is so paranoid and unstable that he continuously wants to hurt his body and mind and…”

“He is mentally ill.” Cap interrupts him with narrowed eyes. “I really wanted this to work, son, I swear. But you can’t longer deny that what Deadpool needs isn’t _this_.” and he gestures at Spidey, points at him. “He doesn’t need random trainings, he doesn’t need to be taken out to swing across the city like a child and patrol without any responsibility. It’s not a game. He needs _serious_ help.”

“He… he tried.” the young man gulps and his tone has a sharp edge when he adds with rage: “And _you_ tried too, but you only made things worse! I already told you, he is _alone_! Doctors and psychiatrists won’t give him what he really needs! A… a friend, a support!”

“But he doesn’t want to be just your friend.” Bruce steps in, holding up the page where the biggest photo of the kiss is published. “This proves it. He developed deeper feelings for you.”

“That’s…” Spidey clears his throat and looks away from the group. “I will deal with that.”

“This complicates everything.” Bruce insists and Clint and Natasha seem to agree with him. “He will suffer in your presence, especially if he is so unstable as you said. Unless…” he appears very surprised and hesitant when he concludes: “… you can return his feelings?”

An awkward silence falls in the room and Spidey frowns, wishing to change topic as soon as possible.

“That doesn’t concern you.” he answers and is about to add more when he’s cuts off by Cap: “Your love life may not concern us, but Deadpool _does_ and we need to find him before he completely loses his mind and puts civilians in danger.”

The soldier gets up and stands in front of Spider-Man, arms folded in front of his chest.

“I still have to decide what we will do with him once we find him, but for now the important thing is _finding_ him.” He sighs and asks with the tone of someone who really wants to hear good news: “Do you know where he could be right now?”

“Actually, yes.” Spidey lifts a sleeve and shows everyone the little monitor wrapped around his wrist, just under the web-shooter. “I managed to put one of my spider-tracers on him before he left. He isn’t in New York anymore, but he stopped not many miles away from it. I think he has a car or something.”

“Good.” Cap motions the others to get ready, but Spidey suddenly looks scared.

“Wait! Let me… let me go alone!”

Many eyes fall on him and the young man ignores them all to look only at Cap, now angry and exasperated.

“If he sees all of you, he will snap and things will get worse. He is very frail right now, so please… let me go alone.”

“And how do you intend to reach him?”

“I…” Spidey shrugs nervously. “I will use a jet! It can’t be that hard to drive!”

“Hell no!” Tony exclaims with a horrified face. “You are gonna destroy it!”

“I will not! Come on, it just has some flashy buttons and a cloche, it can’t be that difficult! I am a clever guy, remember?”

“A clever guy who doesn’t even have a driving license.” Tony retorts; luckily Clint intervenes with a heavy sigh: “I will take you there. I know how to drive those.”

Spidey’s face lightens up with joy and relief and he nods gratefully at the other man, who rolls his eyes.

“I will park a bit far from where Deadpool is, so he won’t get a heartattack.” he frowns. “I hope he won’t go crazy again seeing you.”

“He won’t.” Even though he sounds sure and determined, the young hero is dying inside and glances at the screen around his wrist with anxiety. “He is still there. Maybe he is taking a break or… or I don’t know, maybe he killed himself again.” He pronounces the last words with a softer tone full of sadness.

“Does he do that a lot?” Natasha asks with seriousness and when Spidey nods, her expression becomes melancholic and thoughtful.

“That guy sure has a lot of issues.”

“You should read his file.” Carol says shaking her head. “He had a hard life, I have to admit that.”

“When he is in control of his emotions and the voices don’t harass him, he is actually a cool guy. A bit, huh… loud, but cool.” Spidey snorts with a fond smile, thinking about the nicknames used by the merc and his jokes. “He is not a bad person, I swear. He wants to do good, but he has so many problems and obsessions that he always ends up doing bad things without really wanting it.”

“We will think about that the next time he will put a bullet into a guy’s head.” Tony scoffs, then, before Spidey can reply, he turns to Thor, who got up to look at something outside the window. “Thor? What’s wrong?”

“I am not completely certain.” the god answers slowly, glaring at the sky. “There is something off, but I cannot grasp what it is…”

“Great. Just what we needed.”

“Let’s go.” Clint tells Spidey, heading towards the roof where the jets and airplane are kept. “First we deal with Deadpool, then we can think about whatever apocalyptic shit is coming down to bother us.”

Spidey agrees, not even worrying about Thor’s bad feeling; he just focuses on Wade, on his mental and physical wellbeing, on the pain he is probably inflicting himself. He looks at the screen another time, a hard lump in his throat, his heart throbbing in his chest, beating like a hammer.

_‘God, I hope everything will go well…’_  
  


\- - -  
  


He stopped the trailer at the edge of the road, hidden behind a huge billboard, covered by the cold shadow it casts.

The trailer is pretty big and spacious; it offers many comforts and it’s still - thank God - quite clean. Apart from some beers and cans, the little fridge is empty, but Wade doesn’t worry about it for now. He just wants to sleep, to distract himself with some TV and then - once fully rested and with a slightly clearer mind - finally drive away, far from New York, far from Spider-Man and the stupid hopes the hero had for him.

The TV distraction is working; he can’t get drunk easily, but the beer has the magical effect to tone down the voices and he can drown into the world offered by the screen in relative peace.

The cancer pain is worse today, probably due to the several stabs and gunshots he tortured his body with. For a moment he considers the idea of taking a shower, but discards it and keeps watching the TV, hoping it will help him doze off on the big bed he’s watching it from.

Then he hears a sound; the door of the trailer opens and someone steps in. For a moment, the blinding light coming from outside doesn’t let him recognize the mysterious person, but they finally walk over to him and he lets out a gasp.

“Fuck!” he shouts springing up, a gun already in his hand, the voices uncontrollable in his poor mind. His head is painfully throbbing, it feels like his brain is going to explode, and Wade grits his teeth, the familiar panic attack giving him no break.

“Why are you so fucking _stubborn_?!” he yells at Spider-Man, whose uncovered lips curl upwards in a reassuring smile which only makes him more furious. “Stop doing that! Don’t you fucking dare smiling like that!”

He steps back, towards the bed, with a whine filled with pain and despair. Did he follow him? How did he do that? _Why_ did he do that?

“I-I told you…” he starts stammering, but clears his throat to sound less pitiful and miserable. “I told you not to follow me. I warned you, you fucking reckless…”

“I don’t care.” Spidey says, his smile finally gone, replaced by a sad frown. He steps forward, making Wade gasp and distance himself from him. “We need to talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” the merc growls and when Spidey is in front of him and he can’t go back anymore, he presses the muzzle of the gun against the hero’s forehead. “Go away, Spidey. I don’t want to talk.” he suddenly sobs and starts shaking. “I _can’t_ talk! Not… not right now! P-Please, just…”

Spidey gently grasps his wrist and moves the gun away from his head; Wade drops the weapon and when the hero’s lips softly touch his, he moans and closes his eyes.

The kiss is less desperate than the one they shared at the construction site. Spidey’s lips are like he remembered them, the taste is the same, and this time the hero is the one who opens his mouth and licks his chapped lips. Wade presses their bodies together, gropes his ass while biting his neck and growling into it; Spidey leans back to give him better access, gasping and grinding against him.

They fall on the bed and the young man is on top of him; they are both hard and Wade’s breath hitches in his throat when he sees Spidey slowly remove his belt and lower his pants.

“W-Wait…” he tries to say, but the other man cuts him off with a finger on his mouth.

“Shh.” he says and his smile reappears, bright and _beautiful_. “Everything is okay, Wade.”

“B-But… you…” the merc shakes his head, fingers digging into the sheets. “How can you want this? How can you want…” he gulps, hoping to stop the tears already stinging his eyes. “… _me_?”

But Spider-Man’s smile just grows bigger and he puts his hands on Wade’s face, fingers hooking under the mask to slowly pull it away. He throws it on the bed, then his fingertips trace the scars, the bumps and swollen lines with care, and his lips are soon on Wade’s again.

“Why do you always hurt yourself?” the hero asks, his voice a soft whisper, ghosting over the cracked lips of the merc.

“Because that’s what I deserve.” Wade answers, tears streaming freely across his face, and Spidey wipes them off with his hands, shaking his head.

“No, that’s not true.” he says. “You don’t deserve that, Wade.”

They kiss again and Spidey lowers his pants, touches his scarred erection while brushing his lips on every inch of his face; Wade moans, grinds into the touch, thrusts in the air to have more contact, grasps Spidey’s forearms to keep him close.

“You deserve peace.” the hero murmurs, never ceasing to kiss him. “You deserve love.”

Wade’s heart clenches painfully at those words; they give him hope, and the way Spidey is smiling - so sincere, fond, reassuring - makes him feel dizzy, bare, nude.

He is still crying, despite the great pleasure burning through his body like a fire, and the young man cups his cheek with the other hand and kisses him again, for the millionth time, or so it feels like to Wade.

Then Spidey lets his erection go - Wade barely stifles his pleading moan - to undress himself and lay down on the bed, pulling Wade on top.

He is still wearing his mask and Wade wants to see his eyes, to see the bright smile in them too, to look into them forever and feel loved by him. He desires to do that so much that when Spidey puts his hand on his mask to tell him to remove it, his heart skips a beat.

With a shaky smile, the merc settles between his legs; they both moan and as Spidey bites his lips, enjoying the pleasure given by their touching bodies, Wade slowly lifts his mask.

And he screams, because the hero’s face is blood-soaked from the nose to the forehead, where a big, leaking bullet hole is. Wade doesn’t see the eyes, doesn’t see any face in that bloody mass. He screams again, falling off the bed as the other man - still naked and hard - reaches down for him…  
  
  


He wakes up with a desperate shriek. He frantically looks around, panting, deafened by the heart pounding incessantly inside his ears. Even the voices are temporarily silent.

He is alone, there is nobody else in the bed with him; he glances down and sees the bulge of his erection under the pants, the wet spot on them, and he roars, getting off the bed with blinding rage.

He kicks and punches the thin wall, even bending it, then takes a gun and shoots at the TV still on.

The loud noise only makes him feel worse and the next bullet is for him, right in the forehead.


	7. Chapter 7

He should really stop killing himself like this. Not because every time he does it, his skin hurts like hell, but because there is always someone staring at him, awkwardly waiting for him to wake up.

This time it’s not Spider-Man and Wade feels disappointed.

An extremely nervous and fidgeting Hawkeye is resting against the thin wall of the travel and when Wade groggily gets up from the floor, he sighs.

“Dude, I thought you were never gonna get better!”

“Healing factor.” the merc reminds him, vaguely remembering why he shot himself for the umpteenth time that week. He glances down at his pants and mortification flows through him as he sees the wet spot on his crotch. He hastily gets up, hoping Hawkeye didn’t see it, and glares at him.

“Wait…” he says, voice rising. “What the fuck? Why are you here? _How_ are you here?”

“Huh…” the other man takes a tiny, flat screen out of a pocket and shows it to him. It’s familiar, but Wade can’t remember why and he shakes his head, scowling.

“You have a spider-tracer on you.” Hawkeye finally explains, tapping the screen. “Spider-Man put it on you. I just had to follow the signal.”

The mercenary does his best to hide his rage - _he told him! He told him not to try strange things!_ \- and looks down at his body instead. He didn’t see anything on it before, but now that he knows there is something, he studies carefully every fold of spandex and sees a tiny sparkle behind his right ankle.

He takes the little metal spider between his index finger and thumb and stares at it with a blank expression.

When he crushes it under his foot, Hawkeye cringes a little and the screen still in his hand stops beeping.

“Go away.” Wade growls, turning his back to Barton, not even caring why _he_ is here with one of Spider-Man’s toys, why he came in the first place. He just wants to be alone, to dwell on his pain and all the stupid feelings he has for the wall-crawler.

“Listen, I know things are shit right now, but Spider-Man is worried about you and we could really use a hand.” Barton scratches his head, his face scrunched up in concentration as he collects slowly all the right words in his head. “There is… a big problem. In the city. Right now.”

“Don’t care.” Wade grumbles, kicking a rifle case out of the way as he goes to the kitchenette where the fridge is. He can’t stop the petulancy and pain from resonating in his voice when he adds: “And why isn’t Spider-Man with you, if he was really that worried?” He turns back to Barton with a glare. “Mmmh?”

“Because he is busy! _Everyone_ is busy, hell, I should be there with them too! Turn on the TV!” the archer takes the remote still on the bed, but his hand stops midair when he sees the bullet hole on the shattered screen. “Oh.”

“What, another invasion of the Skrulls?” Wade jokes bitterly as he opens a beer can and rolls his eyes.

“Yes!”

He chokes on the cold liquid.

“What?!”

“Thor was the one who first sensed that something was wrong. I swear, Spidey and I were coming here together, but then the Skrulls arrived and started shooting beams everywhere.”

Wade narrows his eyes beneath the mask, not wanting to _hope_ , not wanting to think about Spider-Man opening the door and telling him everything is fine just like in his pathetic dream.

“Then why aren’t you there with your friends, Legolas?” he asks, using rage to fuel his doubts and have a chance at peace. Unfortunately, Barton’s answer doesn’t help him, on the contrary it only makes things worse and the voices - which have been relatively quiet until now - start bickering.

“Spidey asked me to come to you the same.” the archer smirks a little. “He wanted to make sure you were alright and he knew you would have gone too far from the city if he had left you do it.”

Wade blushes, hears his own heart beat fast into his ears, almost a painful thrum into his chest.

“You… you can tell Spidey I am fine.” he hopes his voice sounds cold and detached as he wants to. “And that I don’t need his help anymore.”

“Well, we might use _yours_ though.” Hawkeye motions him to follow him outside and Wade obeys with a huff, which quickly turns into a gasp when he sees the skyscrapers of New York surrounded by green fog and thunders.

“The X-Men aren’t in the city right now. Dunno what they are doing and where, but we are pretty much left alone.”

“Thunderbolts?” Wade suggests, not wanting to go back to New York, to see Spidey, to face him after what happened in his old apartment. “The Guardians of the Galaxy? Someone who isn’t _me_?”

“Thunderbolts are away too. The Guardians are busy defending the galaxy, duh.”

“Now that they got their movie, they are doing their goddamn job? Figures…” 

“I have no idea of what you are talking about, but I am surprised.” Barton folds his arms in front of his chest, looking rather perplexed. “I don’t get it. You literally _beg_ us to take you on our missions and when we finally need your help and request it, you refuse?”

“Yes.” Wade growls, heading inside the travel, followed by the superhero who exclaims: “Come on, Wilson, Spidey will be super mad at me if I don’t bring you back with me!”

“He only wants my help!”

“No!” Barton steps in front of him, ignoring his deadly glare, and reminds him of something important that his dizzy, confused mind forgot about: “He didn’t know the Skrulls were arriving when he told us he wanted to find you. I accepted to accompany him with a jet and only when we were boarding one the aliens came!”

He softens and Wade can’t stand to look at him when he pronounces the next words: “He is worried about you, I swear.”

“He shouldn’t.” the merc mumbles. “I told him everything will come back to normal and that he…” A sudden thought passes through his mind, interrupting him, and he blushes.

The photos!

It’s morning and they have are surely been published. Surely the Avengers and the entire city of New York saw them by now. So they know…

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two.” Barton says, noticing his discomfort and embarrassment. His voice is gentle, he wants to calm him. “But don’t worry about it now, okay? Just come back with me, help us with the aliens and then… then decide for yourself. Nobody will force you to stay and talk with Spider-Man.”

_Don’t do it._

_You don’t have to help them._

_You owe them nothing._

“I owe Spidey.” Wade corrects the voices, ignoring Hawkeye’s confused - and slightly worried - look.

_…_

_Well, that’s not entirely wrong._

Wade takes in a deep breath and sighs through his nose.

“Fine, Merida.” he jokes dryly, ignoring once more the annoyed face Barton is making. “But I will help you only if you take me where the other guys aren’t fighting.”

“Wilson, there won’t be many chances to talk with Spidey in the middle of a battle. You can’t fight alone, there is a lot of Skrulls there.” Hawkeye seems embarrassed when he adds, even pretending to be very interested by his feet: “And you know Cap doesn’t… huh, want you to be alone when civilians are involved.”

“He doesn’t _trust_ me.” Wade corrects him with rage. He doesn’t feel like joking anymore. He just wants to finish this quickly, to kill as many Skrulls as possible and then run away from the city, this time once and for all, without looking back, without _stopping_. He feels his hands itch near the holsters, his body and mind reach that numbness that comes only when it’s time to kill someone. Even the voices quiet down, as if they know the enemies’ screams will take their place into Wade’s damaged mind.

“Spider-Man does.” Hawkeye says and Wade can’t help but let warmth invade his heart at the thought. He knows Spidey really trusts him and he can’t still wrap his head around it. It’s overwhelming, it’s too much for him, and he already felt the burning sting caused by disappointing the young hero.

An explosion resonates in the distance and the merc is grateful for it, because the current topic is dropped to hastily grab every weapon he can and follow an anxious Hawkeye to a jet parked nearby.

“When I left them, they were heading towards Central Park…” the Avenger muses out loud and Wade, who is sitting in the passenger seat behind his, glares at his head.

“I already told you, I don’t want to fight with the others!”

“Don’t be a coward and face your feelings, man!” Hawkeye retorts, the scowl on his face as bad as Wade’s. “Don’t tell me the great Deadpool gets weak knees when he sees Spider-Man! He won’t even be able to talk to you in the middle of all that chaos!”

“I don’t care!” and Wade cringes when he hears his tone, it sounds like a pitiful, childish whine. “I… I don’t want to see him, okay?”

“I can’t waste time to bring you to the other side of the city and then go back to my companions! Also the Skrulls would shoot at us immediately and these jets are the most expensive shit we have at the Tower!”

_Stop being a pussy._

_Spider-Man will probably ignore you, he’s right._

“No!” Wade whimpers, even stomping a foot. “There will be no need to land, you can just fly above the battlefield, I will jump.”

“Are you crazy?!” Hawkeye turns his head to gawk at him, but quickly adds: “Wait, scratch that, _you are_ , but this is insane! You will die and it won’t be pleasant and…”

“I can regenerate. I had it worse. I don’t care.” the merc cuts him off, huffing. He can feel a bad headache coming and he doesn’t like headaches, they remind him of when he was still normal and had just found out he had cancer… plus he doesn’t really need another pain added to the several he already feels on his entire body.

“God, you really are scared!” Barton whistles, a sound of surprise and disconcertment. “You _kissed_ him! You can fight some aliens by his side, dammit!”

Wade’s cheeks burn when the kiss is mentioned and his usual cool, playful demeanor that he uses to conceal embarrassment and shame is gone now. He sulks and does little to hide his uneasiness and just replies: “No, I can’t.”

“You are in love.” it’s a statement, not a question, and Wade wonders why he can’t just kill this lame excuse of an archer and drive the jet somewhere far, somewhere _safe_ from feelings and _love_.

When no answer comes, Hawkeye giggles and looks almost cheerful, even if they are heading towards a city surrounded by dangerous aliens and their green beams of death.

“Dude, you are crazy, but _for him_! I mean, the photos were pretty clear, but we thought… I didn’t imagine that…”

“Can you shut up already?” Wade growls and for a moment he understands how others feel when he is around them, speaking nonsense without a single pause.

_It’s annoying, I admit that._

_I think I know now why Logan always roars and slices us open when we talk too much._

Even Hawkeye doesn’t miss the irony of the current situation and his smartass grin is almost painful to watch.

“If _Deadpool_ of all people is asking someone to shut up, then it’s serious business!”

“I am going to put a bullet into that bird head of yours!” Wade yells kicking the Avenger’s seat, but Barton just smirks above his shoulder and replies: “No, you won’t do that. I am taking you to your Spidey!”

“S-Shut up!”

“Come on, dude, it’s obvious you want to see him again!” the Avenger shrugs while pressing some buttons. “There is nothing wrong about it. I just hope you won’t hurt him.” His tone becomes sharp, more serious. “You definitely did a huge mistake beheading that poor thug, but Spidey explained your situation to us. We already knew some things about you anyway.” He turns back again, his eyes shining with apprehension but also hope: “If you manage to talk to Spider-Man and tell him about your feelings… if you two start _dating_ …” and Wade’s face burns with something that isn’t cancer, “… you won’t put him in danger, will you? You will do your best to avoid hurting him again, right?”

“A-Again?”

“You shot him.” Hawkeye’s tone is still serious, but not angry nor accusing. “Spidey assured us you didn’t do it on purpose, though. You won’t do that again, right?”

“No! No, of course no!” the merc’s mouth is dry and sticky and he longs for some water, not only to refresh his throat, but also to wash away that horrible memory. “B-But we won’t date.” he hurries to say, his hands clutching the soft leather of the passenger seat. “We will _never_ date. He doesn’t love me.”

_‘He_ can’t _love me.’_ he would like to add, but stops before his voice betrays him.

“Mh.” Hawkeye raises an eyebrow. “He sure cares about you a lot though.”

“Hero complex. He wants to fix things that cannot be fixed.” Wade looks outside the little window. They are entering the city and the green fog that still hasn’t lifted. “He is a good man. Too good.”

“But you _want_ to see him again, don’t you?”

Does he?

He thinks about the young man, the way he desperately tried to help him, his smile and voice. The dream is still vivid in his mind and he feels nauseous when the image of Spidey’s face covered in blood, with a hole on his forehead, reminds him that he really shot the young man.

He doesn’t want to do it again, he _will not_ , but what if his crazy mind takes hold of him? What if his frail psyche makes all his boundaries and morals crumble? He feels so good when he is with Spidey, but at the same time he is so unstable, his emotions are so out of control that he can’t trust himself and doesn’t understand how Spidey can. But maybe he will be able to help him, to make him control himself.

Yes, he _wants_ to see him again. To see his smile, to hear his voice, to feel his reassuring touch, to _protect_ him. It doesn’t matter if sympathy and a strange kind of friendship are all he will ever get. It’s enough for him.

As long as he is with Spidey, he is well.

“Yes.” he murmurs, loud enough to be heard.

Barton glances back at him, thinks for a few seconds, then smiles.

“Good. Then you shut up and let me do my job.”

Wade pouts, not liking to receive orders, but his curiosity is piqued by Hawkeye’s help.

“You are an Avenger.” he says, confused. “We teamed up in the past, but you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Who says that?”

“Probably Cap.”

Hawkeye dodges a laser beam and drives the jet between two tall buildings, replying: “When do you feel better? When you are with Spidey or when you are not?”

It’s almost humiliating to admit, but Wade mumbles begrudgingly: “When I am with him.”

“I don’t know if he will ever return your love, but you can’t force yourself to avoid him, not when it causes so many problems, not when it makes you go even crazier. Not when he wants to _help_ you. Because he really wants to, he even argued with Steve about it!”  

The merc’s eyebrows raise.

“R-Really?”

“Yeah! And Bruce said that you may suffer _staying_ with him, because he doesn’t return your feelings, and I thought I agreed with him, but now that I saw you… I think you should really stop being a bitch, stop killing yourself and start _believing_ in yourself. Or at least…” Hawkeye shoots him a friendly look. “Believe in Spider-Man.”

Suddenly the conversations he and Spidey had in the previous day come back to him.

_“Nobody can help me.”_

_“_ _We will fix this._ _You need to be strong, though. You need to keep going, control yourself, give yourself a chance. Just like I am doing now. Can you do this?”_

_“Why did you trust me?”_

_“Because you don’t trust yourself.”_

“You are right.” Wade says, taking out his guns as Hawkeye finally flies over the main battlefield, where all the other Avengers are fighting. “I need to believe in him.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear!”

As the jet lands just on a Skrull robot, destroying it, the mercenary sees him. Spider-Man is swinging above three aliens and with a graceful maneuver in the air kicks them right in the face.

“Thanks, buddy.” Wade tells Hawkeye as they jump off the jet, ready to take part in the battle. The Avenger just smiles at him and nods at Spider-Man. His smile disappears when an angry voice calls him.

“Clint! What took you so long?!”

“Sorry, Cap! I brought Deadpool with me, he will help us!”

“Deadpool!” the super soldier approaches him in long strides, his shield dirty with a few stains of blood. He stares at him for a long time and Wade just straightens his back, waiting for him to talk.

Maybe Cap finds on his masked face what he was looking for, because he softens and simply says: “Don’t kill anyone.”

“Of course, sir! Understood, sir!” Wade salutes, ignoring the exasperated way Cap rolls his eyes, and runs away, runs to _Spidey_.

The superhero, who was too busy to notice the jet, seems shocked when he sees him. The eyes of his mask widen even more when Wade gather some courage to grin at him.

“Hi, baby boy.”

A Skrull arrives, but Wade shoots at his legs and the alien falls on the ground with a scream, fainting.

“See?!” the merc laughs, excitement and joy and _hope_ filling him to the brim. “I did it! I didn’t kill him!”

Spidey smiles at him, but his stance and hesitation still express a lot of surprise, which he puts into words: “You came.”

And Wade doesn’t crack vulgar jokes nor tries to change topic. The voices are quiet, the battle is all around them, but at the same time it’s far and leaves them in peace - for now. So he feels content, incredibly better than a few hours ago when he dreamed and shot himself, and his answer is soft and gentle.

“Yes. I wanted to help.” he suddenly feels scared, panic comes back, and he fears Spidey’s judgment. “Can I?”

He lets out a deep breath when Spider-Man’s smile becomes larger, stretching his mask.

“Of course you can. Thank you, we needed it.”

An explosion interrupts them and for a while they don’t talk, too busy sending Skrulls on the ground. Wade focuses, thinks about the training; even if it was just one, brief time, it’s been actually useful. He doesn’t joke, doesn’t talk to himself like he usually does when he is on a mission; he is concentrated, careful, his entire mind and being are focused on the battle and on the vital parts of the enemies he has to avoid. He forces his hands to move like Spidey taught him.

“Breathe…” he murmurs. “Breathe and immobilize them… Make them inoffensive… Breathe…”

It’s like he’s resetting himself, deleting years of mindless battles and jobs. It’s harder to fight someone without killing them than just shoot at their brain and leave them be. When he turns around and sees _alive_ enemies, he can’t fully comprehend what’s happening. It’s like a dream. Did he do this? Did he really raise his guns and shoot without murdering?

He feels dissociated and the voices threaten to come back, already whispering in the back of his mind, but a hand softly falls on his shoulder and when he looks back, Spider-Man is here, still smiling.

“Good job.” he says with pride. His voice is warm and happy and Wade feels like that too, now.

“Thanks.” he replies. His eyes move from the hero’s masked face to his shoulder and he frowns sadly.

“I… I am sorry. For that. For everything.” he clears his throat, fully aware that this isn’t the right moment, that Skrulls are still there. But he needs to say this and so he adds: “I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t…”

Pity that words fail him, something that usually happens only once in a year or two.

“What I am trying to say is that… you… I was…”

“Don’t worry.” Spidey smiles reassuringly. “I know you weren’t feeling good.”

“I feel good when I am with you! Too good!” Wade is grateful for his mask, because he is sure his blush could be perfectly visible without it, even if scars cover his entire face. “I was scared of being so much with you because you make me feel good and I am not used to it! But I feel even _more_ scared when you are not with me, I… I…”

“Wade.”

The younger man takes his hand and holds it tightly; the merc hangs his head, but Spidey lifts it with a finger.

“It’s okay.”

“I want your help.” Wade sighs, squeezing the long fingers.

“Good.” Spidey smiles again. “Because I haven’t given up on you, Wade.”

“And… And I am sorry for the kiss. Well, the kisses, because technically I kissed you twice. Does a masked kiss count? A-Anyway, I am sorry.” he looks away, unable to look the hero in the eyes. “I won’t do that again. When we will start training or patrolling again, I won’t do anything weird, I swear.”

Spidey is about to say something when the Skrulls seem to notice them and two soldiers throw little bombs at them. Fortunately the wall-crawler’s special senses let him take care of those and he sends them fly up in the air with his webs, making them explode without hurting anyone.

The aliens soon start to retreat. They were just a small group, maybe sent to control the situation on Earth and verify if there was any hope for a bigger attack. The Avengers’ strong defense showed them this is not the case.

The hurt Skrulls manage to limp back to their starship, helped by their companions; it’s funny, but Wade recognizes the majority of them. Maybe because he concentrated so much on them before shooting or maybe because they are _alive_ and not corpses without a name, face and importance laying on the ground. It’s strange thinking that his bullets hit them, but didn’t kill them. It’s strange thinking that Deadpool didn’t spread death all around, but instead let everyone go back home with just two broken legs and simple scratches.

As soon as the starships lift from the ground and fly away, leaving dust behind, the population of New York floods back into the streets. People are clapping, cheering, laughing; they are thanking the Avengers and Wade feels like a stranger in the middle of that celebration.

Soon the citizens notice him and many confused and surprised looks pass among them, as the police and firemen arrive; there is also the mayor and Spider-Man groans when the unmistakable mustache of Jameson appears in the crowd.

Thankfully Captain America steps forward to talk and even if his smile is strained, he shakes the mayor’s hand with politeness.

“I should go.” Wade whispers as people whisper and point at him; some are even giggling and the sound gets louder when Spidey rests a hand on his arm.

“No! You helped! You have to celebrate with us!”

“I don’t belong here. And I didn’t do that much, sweetums.” his smile is a little sad. “You would have dealt with those assholes without problems even if I hadn’t been here.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” Spidey is glaring at him now. “You did a fantastic job today, Wade. You… you _controlled_ yourself and it was amazing!”

“Like you?” the merc jokes and his heart flutters when he hears the hero chuckle.

“More than me. It was great and I won’t let you go away without first getting a huge ‘thank you’ from New York and the mayor.” He tugs at his Deadpool costume. “You showed them, Wade. You showed them you can be a good guy. They will understand what happened in that alleyway.”

Someone gave a microphone to Jameson and he is now making one of his infamous speeches. This time he is using good words, though, full of appreciation and respect.

Wade and Spidey are a bit far from the rest of the Avengers and the hero firmly grabs his sleeve to bring him to the rest of the group. Jameson, who is still talking, shoots them a surprised glare, but doesn’t stop.

“Huh…”

It’s the first time Wade is in a situation like this, where people are going to thank him instead of begging him to go away, of telling him he is a monster. It’s like waiting for his turn to come during a recital at school and his usual social anxiety, so well hidden under a thick layer of jokes, humor, self-deprecation, comes back in full force, similar to a slap across his disfigured face.

“It’s okay.” Spidey senses his tension and smiles. His hand finds his and squeezes it. “I got you.”

Wade gulps and nods; he can see and _feel_ many stares, many curious gazes and pointed index fingers. He tries to ignore them to think only about Spidey’s hand and the warmth coming from it even through the spandex.

“Spidey…” he whispers when Jameson starts focusing his attention on the rest of the group; he won’t ignore them for much longer.

“Yes?”

“I am sorry for the photos too.” and this isn’t what he would like to say, but it’s an important thing and he is glad to see Spidey smile.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jameson talks for a moment to the crowd; Wade isn’t listening to him, he is too scared and his ears are ringing. Only Spider-Man’s firm, but gentle grip is giving him the strength not to give up to a full panic attack.

“Spidey.” he swallows hot saliva and turns for a moment to watch the hero, who is instead following every move of the mayor.

“What?”

Jameson is so near, now, and it’s obvious he doesn’t really want to talk to them, but he will have to, especially after all the interesting articles his newspaper released about them.

Wade knows it’s crazy, that there will be better moments for this, but after all he _is_ crazy and he can’t hold it back anymore. Not after the conversation he had with Hawkeye, not after this battle gone so well, not after the reconciliation he had with Spidey.

The voices are still quiet and the peace inside his mind feels like heaven, it makes him think better. Or maybe not, if the insane idea he is having is anything to go by.

“I-I have to tell you something.”

“Now?” Spidey’s whisper sounds a bit nervous and he is eyeing Jameson with a big dose of distrust and uneasiness. “Can it wait? That prick is coming right to us!”

“No, it’s like… it’s like when you have to pee and you can’t really hold it anymore, you get me? I-I have to tell you now!”

Spidey glances at him with worry, tugging at his hand.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

_“I think it’s time to have a little talk with two people we learned a lot about in the previous days.”_

“I…”

Jameson shows a tiny cold smile, half-hidden by his glorious mustache, and he advances with long strides, just like Cap did before. The mayor doesn’t look as cool and reassuring as him though, he is more like a predator that found its prey and is ready to eat it.

_“I am sure that we all are curious to hear what they have to say about a horrible event which we know quite well.”_

“It’s… you see, I…”

_“And I would also like to know what they can tell us about some surprising photographs that some good youngsters let us publish on our beloved newspaper.”_

Wade is staring at Jameson, looking right at him, but he isn’t seeing him and his whispered, timid words are only for Spidey, as well as his whole attention; the hero tightens his hold around his hand to encourage him.

“I…”

_“I would have never thought to see you with the Avengers, Deadpool. I don’t like having you in my city, especially not after what you did, but I guess you helped a lot this time. Care to tell us why you are here and what happened in that alley where you beheaded that poor, young man?”_

And as Jameson extends his arm, Wade lets out the words that he wanted to say for so long, those same words that he feared and that now he absolutely has to tell Spidey. He is so scared and nervous that he is frozen on the spot, doesn’t even turn to the hero, doesn’t even see the microphone, and says, his voice amplified for everyone to hear:

“I love you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you have a big story in mind and you can’t wait to write certain parts of it? This is one of the parts I wanted to write for a long time :’D Also, thank you all for sticking with this story, I really appreciate it. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well!

A collective gasp is the only thing that can be heard after Wade’s words.

Jameson stares at him with absolute horror and shock; Spidey, who is still holding his hand, is drilling a hole into his masked face with his eyes. The crowd that surrounds them and the Avengers are equally astonished.

“Damn.” Natasha mumbles, her eyebrows raised up to her hairline; next to her, Clint is staring at Wade with his mouth hanging open. Even Tony, in his Iron Man suit, manages to express all his bewilderment.

Wade has been wishing to die for a long time; for a certain period, it’s been all he could think about, his greatest desire and objective. Then, when he realized it was useless and that there was no death for someone like him, he gave up. He is pretty good at giving up, considering the fuss he has made in the last days.

Now that wish is stronger than ever. He prays for someone to shoot him with a special bullet, for an unknown disease to take hold of his already ill body and finally trick the healing factor. He prays for a miracle, a hole in the ground, a sudden change of mind of God who decides to erase his existence once and for all.

Nothing comes - of course - so he is left in that big plaza, surrounded by people, Spider-Man’s hand still clutching his, with a shocked Jameson whose surprise is so big even his mustache and hair seem paralyzed.

The voices haven’t returned yet. This is good, though, because the silence allows him to think clearly, to come up with a solution. There is no time for panic, there is no time to think about Spidey and his reaction, about what he has just done.

_‘I just told Spidey I love him.’_

No! He must not think about it now! He must find something to say!

Even Captain America is staring at him as if a second head has appeared on his neck and Wade gulps, mustering all his courage and nerve to make things appear differently from what they really are.

“Yeah, man!” he exclaims, startling everyone from their surprise and trance. “I… I love you!”

He lets Spidey’s hand go to walk closer to Jameson, who recoils, but has no enough time to step back. Wade’s arm is around his shoulders in a few seconds and the merc grins at him.

“You are my favorite mayor, you know? Not that I know many other mayors, apart from mine in _Animal Crossing_ … but I am sure you are the best there is! Always so protective with your city and its people, always so willing to sacrifice your health and lungs to scream against guys in spandex who swings across your skyscrapers… Really, you are so admirable!”

Giggles pass through the crowd and an angry blush appears on Jameson’s cheeks.

“You…” he tries to say, but Wade quickly cuts him off, gesturing towards the plaza in a theatrical manner: “Look at all these people who adore you as well! New York is so lucky to have you! I can’t imagine what would happen if you weren’t here, demanding photos of that same man in spandex you scream at…” Wade wiggles his eyebrows under the mask, his grin ten times bigger. “Do you like guys in spandex by any chance, J.J.?”

Many people burst out laughing, others cheer, and Spidey snorts, tilting his head downward to hide his smile.

Jameson looks hysterical now, almost on the verge of a heartattack; his face is so red and _bright_ , Wade wonders if he is going to explode soon.

“I am not the one who kisses them!” the mayor barks and the crowd goes silent again. Wade expected this, so he just smiles, pats the man’s back and goes back to Spidey, who looks at him with worry.

“That’s another reason why I love you, J.J.!” he pats Spidey’s shoulder. “You are always so honest and straightforward! And I am really happy to know those photos have been published!”

The mayor eyes him warily and surprise is visible in everybody’s face for a second time.

“Yes, because, you see… it was a bet! An innocuous, playful bet between me and a friend!”

“What?” Jameson’s rage evaporates as he and the people around them take in that sudden plot twist.

“That wasn’t a true kiss…?”

“So he was just joking around…?”

“Damn, I really fell for it!”

The only ones who don’t look convinced at all are the Avengers and Spidey; the latter moves uncomfortably, looking at Wade’s fake grin with a sad frown, while the merc continues to lie: “Yeah, Wolverine is gonna be so disappointed! He said I didn’t have the balls to kiss Spider-Man - ‘Bub, if you ever kiss him, I won’t drink beer for a week!’ -, but those photos are gonna prove the contrary! Thank you for publishing them, Jamey!”

Wade’s booming laugh can be heard in the entire plaza and his hand squeezes Spidey’s shoulder one last time before he goes back to Jameson, whose embarrassment is so clear and vivid Wade can’t help but laugh again.

“I know you wanted a cool scoop. Sorry to rain on your parade, buddy, but… that’s it. It was a joke and you were stupid enough to treat it as serious business. Only because Spider-Man was involved.” He lowers his voice, which becomes suddenly cold and angry, with a dangerous edge in it. He moves his face closer to Jameson’s and growls: “This is what you get for poking in things that don’t concern you. Enjoy the mockery and the disappointment of your citizens and readers.”

Jameson opens his mouth to reply, but Wade’s frightening expression, made even worse by the mask, convinces him to remain quiet about this. He swallows his hurt pride and doubts and simply glares at the merc, who smiles with too much sweetness.

“Good.” Wade says. “Now that we’ve settled this, I think it’s time for me to go home and rest on my bags of money and weapons.”

“Wait!” J.J. snarls, ignoring the ugly look Wade shoots him. “That kiss may have been a joke, but that man beheaded in an alley is not! I want to know - _we_ want to know - what you have to say about that!”

And suddenly Wade remembers where he is and who is with him. He can feel people staring at him, waiting for his answer; the tension grows, as well as all the fears and anger his presence has always created. He straightens up his back, hoping to look calm and more convincing, and replies: “It was an incident.”

“Of course.” Jameson bitterly comments, narrowing his eyes. “So you just happened to behead a man and put in risk the life of a poor woman. Is this what you are saying?”

“That man was a criminal.” Wade retorts, clenching his jaw and fists. He is already losing his calm demeanor and he wants to scream that he did the right thing, that he kills to help and not only for money. He wants to tell everyone about that psychologist who raped a young girl, leading to her suicide. He killed him and asked for nothing in return, didn’t accept her parents’ money. He killed because it was the right thing to do. And what about all the children he saved? What about all the good things he accomplished, but everyone ignored or didn’t even see?

He feels like he is back at the start, at his apartment, ready to leave the city feeling completely misunderstood and _alone_.

“He tried to kill that old woman and Spider-Man! He was about to shoot at them! I didn’t want to kill him at first, but when I saw what he was going to do, I had to stop him!”

“You killed him like an animal!” Jameson shouts, startling him. “Our city has already enough problems, thanks to people like him!” he points at Spidey, whose eyes become thin slits. “And also them.” Jameson turns to the other Avengers and finds the courage to glare at them.

“God only knows how many lives you put in danger every day with your battles and explosions! And let’s not forget about the damages and costs!”

The heroes ignore him, but they look visibly offended and Captain America returns the glare with a disappointed stare.

“That man deserved death. I _helped_.” Wade continues to argue, a deep growl building in the back of his throat, and he starts to shake when J.J. scoffs and looks at him with disdain.

“You didn’t help! You scared that poor woman and the whole city! You are a crazy, mindless criminal who kills people for hire! You are even _worse_ than Spider-Man and if he is a menace, then you are much, much more.” He makes a disgusted sound and it sounds like a slap to Wade. “You are a _monster_. Dangerous and horrifying. And the idea of having you here in my city fills me with dread.”

Panic clings to Wade with an icy grip and he stands there, his tall and muscled figure looming over Jameson, without reacting. He just accepts the words - he has repeated them to himself so many times before anyway - and forces his tears of pain and anger back. They are the tears of a child who tries to be strong in front of a cruel adult, despite knowing perfectly that the grown up is right, that he really is a failure and an ugly child.

They are the same tears which filled his eyes when he was little and his father screamed at him.

The voices start to come back, whispering dark things into his mind, bad memories that he hoped to forget forever. His breath is shallow and he doesn’t see what is in front of him anymore, he doesn’t hear what Jameson is still telling him, he is lost and alone and…

“Enough!”

Wade’s head snaps at his side and he sees Spider-Man standing next to him, every fiber of his lithe body shaking with anger and indignation.

“I knew you were a horrible son of a…” he bites his lip to avoid a bad word, but his eyes - even if hidden by the mask - are piercing a hole through Jameson. “… but this is too much. You are only a bitter, coward man!”

He grabs Wade’s wrist and pulls him closer, his eyes still locked with Jameson’s. “Deadpool was really trying to help. He didn’t want to kill that man, but then he was forced too. I don’t approve of what happened there, I don’t like when people are killed, but you are attacking him without knowing fully what the circumstances were.” He shakes his head with the same disgust Jameson had in his voice before. “You never see beyond what your eyes show you. You are a sad man and I feel only pity for you.”

Spider-Man usually only mocks and bickers with the mayor and this change of tone seems to surprise J.J., who blushes, not with rage, but with shame. The crowd is sad and mortified too, and the Avengers look at the scene with a quiet interest.

“Let’s go.” Spidey murmurs to Wade after glaring at J.J. a little more; he wraps an arm around the merc’s thick waist and shoots a web, lifting their bodies from the ground without effort.

They swing from building to building without looking back and Wade, pressed to Spidey, closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, grateful for the reassuring grip the hero has around his waist and soul.  
  
  


\- - -

  
  
He doesn’t bring Wilson back at his apartment. It’s still filthy and the mercenary needs a calm place, far from all his problems and obsessions. So Spidey lands on a pacific rooftop, distant from the battlefield, and makes Wade sit down with a gentle push on his shoulders.

He looks distracted and his silence is upsetting; it’s a _loud_ silence, filled with screams and pain, and Spidey mentally curses J.J. who reduced Wade like this, like he was before the battle, before his return to the city. He wonders what Wade was doing, how his conditions were when Hawkeye found him.

_‘Did he kill himself again?’_ but he already knows the answer and his heart aches.

“Wade.” he calls sitting next to the merc on the edge of the rooftop. “Are you okay?”

The scarred man hesitates for a second, then nods and looks at his feet dangling from the edge. “I’m okay.” he finally mumbles and Spidey sighs.

Has every progress been lost? Is Wade back into his mental state filled with fears, doubts and pain? He hopes not, because he misses the Wade who smiled at him in the battlefield, the Wade who finally was seeing the light in his dark path. He looked so relieved and _happy_ that the hero would like to go back to the plaza and punch the life out of Jameson for what he said. He drives away such thoughts with another heavy sigh and rests a hand upon the merc’s shoulder.

“Don’t believe what the mayor told you.” he says with a gentle, but decisive tone. “Please, Wade, don’t. It’s not true and you must understand this.” he shakes him slightly, but the merc still doesn’t raise his head or eyes. “Remember the battle. Remember how good you have been. How many lives you _didn’t_ kill.”

His hand moves from the shoulder to the merc’s arm and he says softly: “You are not a monster, Wade.”

The other man finally raises his head and looks at him in complete silence. Then he slowly removes his mask and Spidey can see his pleading, scared eyes looking at him with great intensity in the sea of scars and bumps.

“Say it again.”

Spider-Man feels a pain in his chest, similar to a punch; he looks at the scars, at the disfigurement, at the strong emotions passing through that marred face. He understands and his heart swells with sadness and sympathy.

“You are not a monster.” he repeats, his voice gentle and sincere. Wade keeps looking at him, then seems to relax and diverts his eyes. And Spidey suffers knowing that he needs to be reassured like that, that he needs to hear that he is human even when his face is bare, that he needs to hear it in the first place.

“It wasn’t a bet.” Wade suddenly says and a blush appears under the scars on his cheeks. “The kiss, I mean.”

Spidey’s lips curl into a smile. “I know.”

Wade doesn’t address the words he muttered into the microphone. They are important, they are serious, but if Wade doesn’t want to talk about them, then Spider-Man will give him time or simply pretend to forget about them. He can see how the merc wants to say more, how his mouth opens and closes, the way his eyes looks at everything but him. He is almost glad for this, because he really doesn’t know how to answer to that.

_I love you._

Was it really a joke? After all, Wade said that when the microphone was handed him. Maybe he really wanted people to hear that and play a little with Jameson.

_I love you._

But he also said he had to tell him something! What was he doing then?

_I love you._

_‘What should I do?’_

He waits a little more, but Wade gives up and silence falls between them. It’s not awkward nor tense. They listen to the life flowing fast beneath them, in the roads below; they observe the smoke in the distance, the slightly burnt buildings left by the brief alien invasion, the sky now clear of any fog. Wade plays with the mask in his hands, still quiet, and the hero wonders what he is thinking, if the voices are bothering him.

“We could go on patrol tonight.” he offers, hoping to distract him from any dark thoughts. “And make sure the Skrulls didn’t leave any surprise behind.”

Wade’s mood seems to get better immediately, because his face lightens up like a Christmas tree and he exclaims: “Fuck yes! Do you think they left any bombs? I love bombs!” He realizes what he has just said and mumbles sheepishly: “I won’t let them explode this time, though. I’m better at triggering them than deactivating them, but I can help.”

“Thanks. I am not good at finding them to be honest.” Spidey chuckles, a bit embarrassed to admit it. “They make it look so easy in the movies! Just follow the ‘beep’ and you will find a huge box badly hidden on a wall! It’s not like that! Thanks God my spider-senses warned me in the past or I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You gotta think like one of them, Spidey! Where would you put a bomb if you wanted to make some shit and people explode?” Wade grins. “Leave that to me. I am an expert in thinking things nobody else thinks. If there are any bombs or unpleasant surprises, I will take care of them.”

Spidey smiles again and notices the tender way Wade is looking at him, but says nothing about it.

“Please don’t shoot at them, though. That would only make them explode the same.”

“I can put them on me, go somewhere safe and explode with them.” Wade replies, shrugging like it’s the most normal thing to say. “That way nobody will get hurt and _boom!_ Goodbye, bombs!”

Spidey glares at him. Wade still doesn’t accept that he must take care of his body too, even if he has a healing factor. It’s going to be difficult making him understand that he must not treat himself like that. It’s not something caused by the healing factor, Spidey knows that; it’s related to Wade’s self-hatred, to the ill idea of continuously hurting himself because he thinks he _deserves_ it.

It’s not going to be easy, but Spidey will have to teach him how to respect himself again.

So he scolds the merc: “Stop saying these things! I won’t let you hurt yourself again and you are not going to let yourself explode!”

“I can heal!”

“I don’t care! You can still feel pain and I am sure your skin hurts even more when you do something reckless like that. Am I wrong?”

Wade huffs and rolls his eyes, but the way he avoids to look at him and his blush tell Spidey that he is indeed right. He hopes they won’t find any bombs, because he doesn’t want to imagine all the gruesome scenes if they do.

“We should rest a bit. Today has been a long day and the patrol will be even worse.” the hero says, getting up with a grunt, imitated by the merc. He still remembers Wade’s apartment, the blood on the walls, the smell, the… _squishy_ thing in a corner he doesn’t want to think about. He is tired and his limbs ache, but he can’t let the merc go back there like this. He knows he won’t probably give a damn about the conditions of his apartment and sleep in the filth and blood.

“Come on. I will take you home and help you clean it.”

He expected Wade’s surprise, but not his reaction. The scarred man stares at him with pure horror and shakes his head.

“No, no! Don’t… don’t worry about that! It’s fine, I can take care of it!”

“You _won’t_ take care of it.” Spider-Man replies with a frown. “I know you, Wade. You will just put a clean blanket on the bed and sleep like that.”

“What’s the problem with that?” the merc grumbles defensively, admitting that was really his idea. “I can’t catch diseases! But you can and I won’t let you step back into that place. I will clean it. Soon.” He pouts and adds in a lower tone: “So you can visit me anytime.”

Spidey sighs, rubbing tiredly his temples.

_‘God, why is he so stubborn!’_

“It’s not hygienic.” he insists, hands on his hips like his Aunt did when he was little and in trouble. “And your neighbours will start wondering what the hell is going on in your apartment. The… the stench was already pretty strong yesterday.”

“I don’t have any neighbours.” Wade replies and his voice is getting loud, his eyes worried and scared. “And… And I can leave that apartment and find a new, better one! It wouldn’t be the first time!”

“You can’t leave an apartment in those conditions!” Spidey’s clean and tidy habits are forcing him to argue about this, it’s something he can’t tolerate. “Why are you making all this fuss about it? I will help you, it will take less time and you will be able to sleep in a room without blood dripping from the walls and… and…” he hesitates, bites his lips, but at the end says it: “… and without _organs_ lying around!”

It’s clear his words have hit where it hurts, because Wade blushes and babbles, taken aback: “You… you are the one insisting so fucking much! I told you I will take care of it and I don’t want you to see that shit again. It’s… it’s not even that bad!”

Spider-Man can’t believe his ears and his face must show this, because the mercenary lets out a nervous laugh and admits: “I slept in worse ways and places. I know what you saw yesterday was disgusting, but believe me, I am used to it. You _get used_ to it after a lot of times.”

_‘God. He can’t keep living like this.’_

“You…” Spider-Man clears his throat and repeats, hoping his voice won’t quiver this time: “That is not dignity, Wade.”

_‘It’s not self-respect.’_ he would like to add, but doesn’t, fearing Wade’s reaction.

In fact the scarred man frowns and looks away, at the city and its tall buildings.

“I don’t need dignity. And I haven’t had it for a long time anyway.”

The irony of all this hit Spider-Man like a ton of bricks and he grits his teeth, rage flowing through him and burning inside his chest.

“You… you…!”

He snarls and the sound shocks Wade, who gawks at him like he is sprouting another pair of legs and arms. The merc steps back to the edge of the rooftop when the hero walks over to him with a growl.

He is so tired and _angry_. He wants to help - he really does! -, but every time it seems he succeeded, something happens and Wade is back at the start. Not only that, but Wade himself seems to attract an incredible dose of negativity. It’s really like he lives in an endless loop, sure that bad karma controls his life, and Spider-Man can’t stand this anymore. He won’t only help him become a better person, he will help him become a person _again_.

“The first time we talk… do you remember what you said to me?” he asks, his tone dark and furious, and Wade frantically shakes his head, his scarred face full of surprise and ‘I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-is-going-on’ feeling.

“You said you didn’t even remember what respect for yourself felt like.” Spider-Man jabs his chest with a finger, making him flinch, and continues: “I will give you back the respect for yourself, Wade, I _swear_. I won’t let you become a hero, a good person, if you first don’t become that… a _person_. Not a… a lost soul that keeps on surviving and just waits for a miracle or for everything to end.” He glares at the merc, daring him to reply or protest, but fortunately Wade is so surprised that he is not able to utter a word. Spider-Man feels nearly proud, knowing that he is probably one of the few people who can make Wade Wilson speechless - maybe the only one - and he smiles triumphantly and happily, ready for the next step.

He thought about this, he considered everything, he took into account any possible problem and outcome. He knows it may be dangerous, he knows it may be a mistake, but he doesn’t doubt Wade’s intentions, not anymore. He trusts him now and it’s an odd, but reassuring, warm feeling. He should have done this before.

“Listen, it doesn’t feel right talking like this.” he gestures at Wade’s bare face, but immediately regrets it, because Wade blinks, blushes, and makes to put on his mask again.

“No! No, I didn’t mean that!” Spidey grabs his wrist and stops him, sighing. “I mean… I am going to remove _my_ mask. We can’t keep doing this if you don’t know who I am. It’s… it’s not fair, it’s offensive and I am sorry.”

Wade’s eyes widen so much Spidey almost expects the eyeballs to fall out of their sockets. It’s not pleasant surprise the one that just appeared on his face, though. He looks terrified and for a moment he looks at his forehead, as if he is waiting for something to show up there.

“I… I thought you would have been happy.” the hero laughs weakly, not liking the merc’s reaction, discouraged by it. He wanted to show him he trusts him, but Wade is only scared and he feels sorry. “You have been asking me to take off my mask for… for years!” He playfully smacks the other man’s warm and jokes: “Come on! Aren’t you curious? I bet you came up with a lot of theories!”

“Some.” Wade admits, his voice a hoarse croak.

Spidey smiles, trying to reassure him, doing his best to tell him that everything is fine and he doesn’t need to worry so much and fear… he doesn’t even know what Wade is fearing right now.

But he can’t deny the way his own heart is beating fast nor _his_ worry and fear. Because he knows Wade feels something for him and he has no idea of what to do, how to react to his looks and words. He was terribly confused when he kissed him and right now he is feeling scared - maybe as much as Wade - because he doesn’t want to disappoint him, doesn’t want to show him that the Spider-Man he loves so much ( _does he?_ ) is a loser with an average beauty, with average eyes, with an average smile and life.

Maybe he needs more respect for himself too.

When his hands slowly curl up the hem of his mask, Spidey gulps and tells himself that it’s okay, that he will face Wade’s disappointment with strength and courage. He just hopes the merc will keep wanting his help, because it’s important and he can’t bear the thought of stopping this now.

He is about to finally lift the mask and remove it when Wade gasps, reaching out.

“W-Wait!”

The mercenary rests his hands upon his and whispers: “Can… Can I do it?”

The mask is rolled up to the nose now and Spidey knows Wade can see him lick his lips. He nods and moves away his hands, waiting for the other man to continue.

But he doesn’t. He slowly removes his gloves and throws them on the ground, then puts his bare hands under the mask, his scarred fingers delicately tracing Spider-Man’s face. He touches his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks, his eyebrows, exploring every expanse, every inch of skin with his big, scarred hands.

Spidey observes him intently and shudders, not due to disgust, but because he enjoys the feeling of the rough texture of Wade’s fingers on his face.

A fingertips brushes slightly over his forehead and Wade mumbles something, his voice so low that Spidey doesn’t understand the words. When the mask is slowly pulled away, he closes his eyes for a moment, then reopens them with anxiety.

Wade is staring at him and there is no disappointment nor mockery in his eyes, only awe, fondness and a great relief. He cups Spidey’s cheeks with gentleness, as if he is afraid to break or hurt him, and when his thumb brushes his lips, the young hero gasps just like he did when they kissed the first time.

He finally speaks, his voice timid: “I am Peter. Peter Parker.”

And when Wade smiles and leans in to place a soft kiss on his forehead, Peter feels warmth invade him like a hot flow and realizes that Wade really loves him.


	9. Chapter 9

He is beautiful.

It’s not just the kind of ‘beautiful’ that means “I-would-fuck-you-senseless-on-a-bed”; it’s also something nicer that has to do with Peter’s nature.

Wade cannot see any disgust in his brown eyes when he steps back, despite the kiss on the forehead he has just given him. He is pale and despite the lean muscles sticking through the spandex, his features are almost the ones of a child or of a very young man who doesn’t eat much. But there is kindness on his face, kindness and calmness; one corner of his mouth wrinkles and the blowing wind moves his messy, thick hair in all directions. Then he smiles and a good light appears in his eyes, telling Wade he doesn’t have to worry.

Peter is beautiful, inside and out, and he is everything Wade ever needed, everything he will never be worthy of.

The merc regrets the words he told him in the plaza and is grateful the hero hasn’t asked anything. He hopes he will forget about them with time or just pretend nothing ever happened. It’s the best for the both of them and Wade can’t really face _that_ now that he has the ultimate proof that Peter is the peace he longs for and cannot get.

“Uh… sorry.” he chuckles nervously, looking away and playing with his hands to keep them busy. “Didn’t mean to do that. I promised I wouldn’t do any more weird stuff and…”

“It’s okay.” Spidey - _Peter_ \- interrupts him gently and Wade dares to look back at him, to see his smile and big, brown eyes again. He is disappointed to see the first one disappear.

“You won’t tell anybody, right?”

“About what, baby boy?” Wade gasps. “Hey, nicknames aren’t weird, are they? Can… Can I keep using them?”

“The nicknames can stay.” Peter smiles again and the merc can’t believe he is finally seeing it. He wonders if he smiled like this, in this gentle way, the previous days too. However the smile fades away soon for the second time. “I… I meant my identity.”

“Oh! No, of course not!” Does he really think he could reveal something so important? That he would _sell_ a piece of information so vital? His disconcert must be evident, because Peter hurries to say: “I know you won’t do anything bad! Just… just don’t start bragging about how you know Spider-Man’s identity with your friends and enemies. Keep it low, okay?”

 _‘Heh.’_ Wade snorts inwardly. _‘He really knows me.’_

“Promise.” he says with a huge grin. “I will keep my mouth shut. It happens once in a lifetime, so consider yourself lucky.”

Peter laughs and the sound makes butterflies fly crazily inside Wade’s stomach.

“Thank you.” the young man looks at the city, now, clears his throat, but doesn’t talk. Wade stares at him, studying every change in his face, burning into his mind every single detail, shy and sheepish like a kid who wants to get his crush’s attention, but doesn’t have the courage to do so.

It’s an analogy not very different from reality, even if Wade is beyond the “crush” level and definitely into the “head over heels in love” one.

He prays that whatever thing Peter is looking at will keep him busy for a little more, because he really likes observing the way his eyes move and their color slightly changes due to light, the way he bites his lips, the way the thin skin of his neck shifts when he gulps.

It’s a good thing that the voices aren’t back yet, because they would probably mock him and say he has become like ones of those fucking Disney princess who sigh dreamily in front of their true love.

This analogy sounds right too. Not that Wade is a Disney princess or ever felt like one… although he would like to.

Unfortunately, Peter diverts his eyes from the skyscrapers to settle them on him again.

“We should go to your apartment and clean it.” he says and frowns before Wade can even answer. “We are doing it, Wade, and I won’t accept any complain! You can’t sleep in a room like that.”

“Try me.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

Peter glares at him, but it’s not a heated, angry glare, there is a teasing glint in his eyes as well as in Wade’s. The merc smiles innocently, flutters his eyes, and Peter snorts.

“Come on, let’s go.” he says; when he covers again his face, Wade almost lets out a ‘no’. But the events and emotions of his day left him drained too, so he picks up his gloves and mask and after few seconds he is attached to Peter’s back, ready to go.

“Do you have something in your apartment to clean all that blood?”

“Uh…”

The hero sighs and Wade whines loudly into his ear, pouting like a child.

“House hygiene is not important with my kind of job! I never stayed in the same place for long and I am not really a… a tidy and neat type like you.”

“How do you know I am like that?”

“You are not?” Wade giggles as they swing above a big, crowded road and people point at them. “Come on, Petey - can I call you that by the way? -, it’s _obvious_ you are! A sweet, tidy housewife!”

He can see a smile stretch the Spider-Man mask and then Peter says: “Thanks, but I don’t know how I feel about being called a ‘housewife’. I am a neat bachelor.”

Wade feels ridiculous, almost like a loser, but he hasn’t really _lost_ , because that last word contains a world of hope, that his crazy mind expresses through his body with a fit of giggles.

“What?” Peter sounds offended. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Wade muffles the embarrassing sounds into the hero’s back, smelling at the same time his scent. It’s sweaty and not sweet like the previous times, but it’s still incredibly good.

_‘… This must be a new low for me.’_

“My Aunt taught me it’s important to live in a clean space!” the young man continues, clearly bothered by the merc’s little laughs that he has misinterpreted. “Now that I live alone, it’s even more important to keep everything in order. I can’t deal with house chores after long, exhausting patrols, so I clean whenever I can.”

“Aw, Petey, no need to be so defensive!” Wade pats his chest and grins, knowing the gesture is evident even through his voice: “I think it’s pretty cute.”

“Thanks.” the hero grumbles and Wade laughs again, harder, and the sound isn’t forced nor strained. He is genuinely feeling better, feeling _well_ , and next thing he knows is that Peter is laughing with him.

The trip to his apartment is too short and he hesitates before dropping off the hero’s back when they step in, this time into the living room.

The stench is pretty strong even from there and Wade has to admit it’s pretty disgusting. Not that he isn’t used to it or worse smells, but he understands why Peter wants to clean that mess so much.

“Damn…” the young man groans when he heads towards the bedroom. “Wade, you would have really slept in there?!”

“Yeah.” Wade answers sincerely with a shrug. When he notices Peter’s horrified stare behind the mask, he sighs and nods at the couch in the living room. “Okay, maybe I’d have slept on that. Maybe. I told you, I’ve been in worse places.”

“Jesus.”

“I am Wade, sweetums. Do you suffer from amnesia?” the merc knocks lightly on his head and dodges Peter’s elbow. “I know how that feels like, thanks to cancer and shit. It’s a good idea to write down notes, you should start doing it!”

He is joking - even though it _is_ true that he suffers from amnesia sometimes -, but Peter doesn’t laugh nor smile. He turns at him again, this time not to elbow him, but to look at him with sadness.

“You… forget things?”

“Yes…?” Wade shrugs noncommittally again, regretting to have brought up this topic. “It’s… it’s not that bad. My life has never been that great anyway, so forgetting shit can be good.”

Wrong answer again. The white eyes of Peter’s mask widen and the young man just _stares_ , as if he is asking for another truth or trying to read more into Wade and his pain. But Wade doesn’t have another, better truth and he can’t really explain more about his difficulties, since he himself only knows he has problems, but hasn’t a clear idea of what they exactly are. He just knows he is not like the others, but Peter gave him hope and is still doing so.

“So… you may forget this?” Peter gestures at something - not at himself, but at them both, maybe at the room too, and Wade feels warm.

“No! I… I don’t forget important stuff!” He is happy that Peter wants to be reassured about this, that the tension from his shoulders goes away and a relieved smile wrinkles his mask. He is so happy he says too much.

“I just forget things that I want to forget or those useless details nobody cares about, like the date or the time! Sometimes I forget to eat or sleep, but that’s okay, I never sleep peacefully and I don’t really need it, so… And I forgot scenes from my childhood, but I told you, it was shitty, it’s better like this! I only remember the worst ones, the best ones were too painful and I am glad my brain decided to get rid of them.”

“Wade-”

“So don’t worry, Petey! I could _never_ forgive about you or… or this, because this is _super_ important. _You_ are…” Wade realizes what he has been saying and his voices becomes a timid, almost inaudible whisper: “You are important to me.”

It sounds like another declaration of love - it _is_ \- and Wade looks down, at the dirty, dusty floor and his bloody boots.

“Thank you.” Peter answers gently. There is no malice in his words, but something in his voice seems off and when Wade raises his eyes, it’s not to look at him, but at the bedroom doorframe.

“We… we should start cleaning that shithole. I think there is a broom somewhere.”

He is about to start exploring the living room when Peter grabs gently his arm; Wade doesn’t move his eyes or head, though, and just listens intently to the other man.

“Just a broom won’t help much with all that dried blood. We also need a cloth and a bucket of water.”

Wade squints his eyes, squeezes his brain, confirming what he has just told Peter about his memory, but in the end he manages to remember a vague location.

They find a rusty bucket in a dark corner of the kitchen and Wade uses an old, spare mask to use as a cloth. Peter finds the broom in the bathroom - Wade doesn’t know what the hell it was doing there - and they finally step into the bedroom.

Peter tenses up, draws in a deep breath and dips the mask wrapped around the broom into the bucket; when it’s sufficiently wet, he starts rubbing it on the blood stains on the floor. Wade feels useless and asks if he can do something to help, aware of sounding like a timid child. He thinks he said this before, many years ago, but, as he told Peter, he forgot some parts of his childhood that would have caused him too much pain and nostalgia, so he isn’t really sure.

Peter distracts him from his dark thoughts with an answer: “Could you please take care of the stains on the walls?”

Wade tries, with a handkerchief he finds in one of his pockets. The water in the bucket is already red and a bit denser, but still clean enough. He scrubs the stains and the pieces of brain splattered on the walls, now cursing himself and his stupid panic attacks; he starts talking to distract Peter from the unsettling sight and he can hear from the other man’s voice that he is grateful for it.

Peter tells him how to clean a spot better and shares his knowledge with him, even talking a bit about his Aunt, who looks like a good person; they replace together the water in the bucket when it becomes too filled with blood and dirt. They even manage to find a rag and the spare mask, now reduced to a bloody, drenched mass, is thrown away.

The floor is already looking better, but when Peter reaches the corner where Wade’s heart lies, he gasps and looks away for a moment.

“Leave… leave that to me.” Wade murmurs, tremendously embarrassed, mortified, _sorry_. But Peter shakes his head and albeit his voice is strained and hoarse, he reassures him: “I’m okay. Don’t worry.” He uses his webs to pick up the organ and stuffs it into the thick, white threads, going back to the kitchen to throw it into the bin.

When he comes back, he is slightly wobbling and Wade is sure he is paler under the mask now.

There weren’t detergents in the apartment, so they only used water, which didn’t help eliminate the smell as much as Peter desired. Still, the conditions of the room are certainly better and Wade cleans the last bloodstains above the bed with a little smile.

“At least you can breathe in here again.” Peter sighs satisfied. “Do you have spare bed sheets? Those on the bed need to be changed.”

There are some old ones in a drawer and Wade observes in silence, enraptured, as Peter swiftly replaces the dirty ones with them, even folding the hem under the pillow, which has been replaced as well.

Finally, the room looks like it did days ago, no, even better than that. Some faint traces of blood have remained on the white walls, forming weird-shaped spots that can be mistaken for humidity. The bucket and rag are washed in the bathtub and Wade tries to crack some jokes in the meantime, as he and Peter lean over the tub, their hands under the hot, streaming water filling it. Peter must be pretty tired and troubled, though, because he answers slowly, belatedly, or simply shows weak smiles.

When everything that had to be cleaned is clean, they go back to the bedroom and Wade gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, looking at Peter, waiting for him to say something.

“I am going now.” and Wade’s heart clenches, but he replies: “Thanks for the help.”

Peter smiles and this time it’s not strained, not tired, but only warm and kind.

“Are you going to be okay?”

_‘No.’_

“Yes! Yeah, I’m… I’m gonna sleep a bit.” Wade takes off the mask, even if it feels so wrong - more than ever - showing his face to Peter now that he knows how beautiful he is. “Or… or at least I will try. But I won’t kill myself anymore, I swear! I will keep the room tidy and clean.”

He is feeling better than the past days, that’s true, it seems like a good part of the troubles and obsessions that haunted him has gone, but the mere idea of remaining alone, without Peter, shakes him to the bones and makes him feel empty. He must be showing it, because Peter sighs and eyes him with worry, lost into thought.

“I will be fine!” Wade tries to convince him with a fake, too bright smile. “I’m feeling pretty tired too, so this time I will manage to sleep, I am sure!”

_‘I just hope I won’t have another nightmare…’_

He is also sure that the voices will come back in the silence and loneliness of the room, but he is ready - somewhat - to face them and possibly ignore them. He doesn’t want to bother Peter anymore, not after all the help he gave to clean a disgusting room that wasn’t even his. So he takes off his boots and lies on the bed, waving at the young man still looking at him with doubt and anxiety.

“See? I’m gonna close my eyes and get my beauty sleep! You have no idea how good it can be, my face already looks prettier than years ago.”

He hopes his joking attitude will convince Peter that he is going to be okay and that he can leave without any more worry, but the hero just sighs and walks towards him.

“I suppose you don’t have another bed, right?”

Wade pales, babbles a negative answer, and watches Peter rest next to him in an absolute, terrified silence.

When the young man pulls off his mask and puts it on the nightstand, Wade croaks out: “What are you doing?”

“I will sleep here.” Peter turns on the bed to face him and for a moment shyness and another wave of doubt pass over his juvenile face. “Can… Can I?”

Wade nods, not trusting his mouth to answer. God, this man is doing crazy things to him.

He hopes the rest of his body won’t be affected too, because he would rather drink acid every day and stop watching _Golden Girls_ for a year than being caught by Peter with a raging boner when he is resting next to him.

“Don’t try anything funny.” the hero mutters, an adorable blush spreading over his cheeks, making him look like younger and more beautiful than ever. “If your hand comes near my butt, I will snap it in half. Understood?”

“Jeez, I am not that perverted!” Wade whines, almost expecting the voices to chime in and reply that he indeed is. “And your butt isn’t that great!” he adds petulantly, not thinking it even for one second. Peter’s butt is the best rear he has ever seen in his miserable life.

Peter is aware of the big bullshit he has just said, because he smiles smugly and says in a neutral, blank tone: “Huh-uh.”

“Sleep, you rude bug.” the merc grumbles, bending over the bed to pick up his mask from the ground. He makes to put it back on his face, but Peter suddenly reaches out and stops him.

“What are you doing?”

Wade blinks and raises an eyebrow without hairs. “I don’t want you to wake up later and have a heartattack because _this_ ” and points at his face “is sleeping next to you.”

Wrong answer again. He should really start thinking before talking, if Peter’s reaction is always so sorrowful and almost disappointed.

“Wade, stop saying these things and put the mask back on the floor.” He shakes his arm, frowning. “Come on. You can’t sleep with that.”

“I always do.”

“Your skin needs to breathe.”

“My skin needs a miracle.”

Peter huffs, visibly annoyed by his stubbornness, snatches the mask from his hand and throws it at the other side of the room.

“I won’t get scared.” he says and it sounds like a reassuring promise. He softens and Wade forgets to pout or complain to stare into those big, gentle eyes instead. “Don’t worry. Try to sleep.”

“Fine.” he grumbles, but doesn’t turn his back to Peter; he snuggles under the blanket and watches him close his eyes, a hand on their shared pillow, messy brown hair sprawled on it.

“Thanks for the help.” he repeats and Peter opens one eye and smiles at him.

“No problem.”

“Are you sleeping here because you think I would make a mess again?” Wade’s tone isn’t accusative, but Peter raises his head with alarm and the merc realizes he has said another wrong thing.

“No!” the young man exclaims. “No! I… I just wanted to let you rest better!”

Wade blushes and looks equally in panic.

“You said that you don’t hear the voices when you are with me. That you feel better.” Peter looks flustered too and he quickly diverts his eyes from the merc. “And you invited me to stay a few days ago, remember? So if this helps you feel better, I will sleep with you.” His eyes widen. “I-I mean in the bed! No, not like that! Uh, sleep like… like friends! Without touching or…”

Peter starts babbling, talking fast just like Wade does when he is in difficulty. The merc smiles, the love in his heart burning stronger; he would like to hug Peter, to thank him again, to _kiss_ him again, but he just says: “Calm down, web-head. I understand.”

And the young man laughs softly, relieved, and puts his head back on the pillow.

“Sleep well.” he says and those words are so nice that Wade has to wait  a few moments before being able to answer.

“You too, Peter.”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep like this. Even if he can feel the warmth coming from Peter’s body, so near to his, even if he can hear his breath and those little sounds one makes when laying down, his eyelids soon become heavy and he has to blink to keep watching him. He knows it’s creepy and that the young man probably knows what he is doing, but decides to say nothing; still he can’t help but doing it and does his best not to imagine scenes, to fantasize.

He wonders how cuddling with him would be like. Is Peter ticklish? Would he giggle if Wade kissed and licked his neck? Is his hair soft as it looks like?

How would his lips feel if he kissed him in return?

And how would they taste now? What does he like to eat? Is his Aunt his only family? What are his passions, his hobbies, his dreams? How can he be so brave, intelligent, kind and at the same time so awkward, funny and adorable?

Wade shakes his head, rubs it against the pillow, shuts his eyes close. He doesn’t want to think about Peter’s laugh and his hands roaming across his back. He doesn’t want to think about his hot breath ghosting over his chapped mouth, his voice whispering words of love, nor about his smile and those gorgeous, brown eyes. He doesn’t want to imagine Peter and himself sleeping like this every day, every night, eating, laughing and watching TV together in a nice, cozy apartment.

He doesn’t want to imagine being together with Peter, because it’s something too beautiful, too _perfect_ , and it won’t happen. Not to him.

He forces himself to ignore all these thoughts and he almost misses the voices, which would bring him back to reality and tell him to stop with this nonsense.

Before drifting off completely, he reaches out and pinches between his index finger and thumb the spandex of Peter’s wrist. There are no nightmares this time, no dreams. Only a quiet, comforting sleep full of light, a sleep that Wade’s mind and body craved, together with the reassuring presence of Peter at his side and warmth filling every part of his soul and body.

  
  
\- - -

  
  
Three hours later, Peter opens his eyes.

Wade isn’t with him.

He slowly sits up, glad that his limbs don’t ache anymore. He feels refreshed and ready to spring into action, but Wade’s absence worries him. The room is still clean, but he doesn’t know if he can say the same about the rest of the house. Surely Wade didn’t have another of his… attacks, did he? Peter wouldn’t forgive himself if the merc killed himself again while he was sleeping and didn’t notice it.

He looks at the window, at the sky outside. It’s orange and red, signaling the end of the day, and some birds fly in the distance. Everything is silent and Peter gulps, gets up and slowly opens the door that was left ajar.

The rest of the apartment is in dim light and Wade is nowhere to be seen. Peter opens his mouth, ready to call him, anxiety flowing through him like a shot of pure adrenaline, but then he hears a small sound coming from the bathroom.

No light comes from under the door, which is slightly open, but there is definitely someone there.

_‘Wade…?’_

Maybe it’s a mouse or a cockroach, but Peter hopes it’s not the case, not because he is afraid of them, but because it would mean that Wade has really left the apartment and that thought is painful and worries Peter like nothing else.

Was he feeling bad? Why didn’t he wake him up then? He can help! He _wants_ to help!

But if Wade is really in the bathroom, then things are different. Maybe he is having another attack and didn’t want to annoy him. Maybe he just went to the toilet, even though the absence of light doesn’t make sense.

The small sound is clearer now, it’s like a tiny gasp, and Peter approaches the door with dread, hoping he won’t find the merc sprawled on the floor, surrounded by blood, organs and detached limbs.

He wants to call his name, to make sure he is still alive and conscious, to let him know he is here for him and not sleeping in another room. But his mouth his dry, his heart is beating so fast he can’t even hear his footsteps as he walks slowly towards the door. He is on his tip-toes, not knowing why, but he feels like it’s better like this. He doesn’t want to scare or startle Wade.

He looks into the dark room, squinting his eyes to see better. There is Wade, standing up, hunched over the bathtub, and Peter represses a sigh, both relieved and sad.

_‘Is he stabbing himself again? I don’t see his katanas, what is he using? Oh God, please, don’t rip your heart off again…!’_

He is finally going to call him, when Wade’s head leans backwards and the scarred man lets out that tiny gasp for the third time. It’s not a sound of pain and Wade is… he is definitely moving something, but his hand is not on his chest or…

Peter freezes when he realizes what’s happening. Wade’s gasp turns into a moan and the hand around his cock speeds up, his body trembles and shivers. He looks down at his erection - and Peter sees it for a moment - and pants: “Peter… Peter… Peter…!”

The young man tries to look away, to go back to the bedroom, but his legs don’t move and his brain refuses to cooperate. He watches as Wade keeps jacking off, tugging with force at his dick, grunting and moaning; he sees his thumb rub the head, he hears him hiss, he hears the sound his skin is making. He sees the pants and boxers dropped on the floor, but his eyes go back to Wade immediately; he is mesmerized by the movement, by the sounds he is making, by the way he arches his back and thrusts into the air. For a second, Peter wonders if he has scars _there_ too; but he already knows the answer and it doesn’t disturb or disgust him.

Wade repeats his name again and Peter feels a tingling sensation in his groin, growing stronger the more he looks and listens. His hand slowly goes into the pants of his costume and he bites his lips, stopping before it’s too late. A thought passes through his mind and he doesn’t know whether to consider it crazy or not, doesn’t know if he should step into the bathroom and let Wade take him, if he should replace Wade’s hand with his own- _‘or my mouth’_  he thinks for a moment - and give him pleasure.

Peter’s hand snaps away and he keeps watching wide-eyed, torn between rationality and desire, logic and a deep, strange feeling he cannot explain.

Wade hunches forward and lets out a stream of guttural noises as he tugs at the erection and twists his hand around it. He grabs the edge of the bathtub with the other hand to support himself and as he comes - long, white threads falling on his fingers and into the tub -, he moans: “Peter…!”

He stays like that, breathing deeply, his chest heaving, his legs trembling, and Peter gulps before stepping back and retreating into the bedroom.

He is still painfully hard and his protective cup - even if it’s hiding it - hurts a lot. He glances at the window, but doesn’t want to leave. Wade would feel bad, he may _understand_ , and Peter doesn’t want to mortify him, to make him be ashamed of his love for him.

So he goes back to bed, covers himself with the blanket, turns his back to the door and pretends to be asleep.

_‘What should I do?’_

He has no idea of how to be around Wade now. Should he keep being his usual self? But what if he is making things worse this way, making Wade desire him so much that he can’t control himself? What if he is making him suffer, just like the Avengers told him?

Still, if he started acting in a cold manner, Wade would suffer even more, he is sure of this.

_‘What should I do?’_

He bites his lips and looks down, under the blanket. He slowly lowers his pants a bit and touches the base of his erection, hissing through his teeth.

He stops and puts back on the costume, keeps his hands on the pillow; he hears Wade’s footsteps out of the room, but he is not coming in the bedroom yet.

Peter sighs and closes his eyes, arousal slowly leaving his body.

_‘It’s okay. Wade… Wade loves me, so it’s normal that… that he did that. Nothing changed. I will be my usual self and… and everything will be okay.’_

He gulps when he hears Wade approach.

God, his hands! He loved it when they caressed his face! How would they feel like on the rest of his body? How would they feel like on the erection still raging between his legs? Peter knows Wade would be gentle, he would go slow, maybe even tickle him and laugh with him with his deep, rough, beautiful voice.

What about his mouth? Would he press it on his neck every morning, use those chapped, slightly dry lips to pepper his face with kisses and whisper jokes and sweet things into his ear?

How would his skin feel like? Peter never touched it with bare hands, he only felt his hands on his face, but he loved them and knows that the rest of Wade’s body wouldn’t probably feel very different. He also knows there are certain parts where it hurts more, more delicate scars and scabs, and he wonders how Wade would react if he kissed them and caressed them to bring him comfort. Would he hum happily? Moan? Laugh?

Is Wade ticklish? Peter suddenly wants to know; it’s a small, useless detail, but it seems extremely important to him. What does Wade eat, apart from junk food? He must have a favorite food! What does he do in his spare time, when he is not killing people? Does he spend his whole day alone, talking to himself? What is his favorite color?

What would he do in the morning, before getting up to make breakfast together? Would he pout, grumpy, because he doesn’t want to rise? Would he whine because he wants to stay in bed with him? Would he smile and blush after hearing Peter tell him “good morning, honey”?

Before Peter can face the meaning behind his thoughts, Wade enters. He cautiously sits on the bed and takes off his boots, then rests next to him again.

Peter, who has closed his eyes, reopens them and stares at the window, at the wall ahead, wondering what Wade is thinking right now. He can hear his slightly labored breath and dares to look above his shoulder.

Wade’s back is turned to him and a great surge of sympathy and… and he doesn’t even know what, flows through him. So he turns and rests his forehead against Wade’s big back, feeling him tense up and immediately relax. He must think he has moved in his sleep, though, because he doesn’t talk nor react.

Peter grabs the spandex of the Deadpool costume with his index finger and thumb and closes his eyes, hoping to bring Wade some comfort, to remind him he is really here and not just in his fantasies.

Before falling asleep, he imagines one last scene; Wade and him cooking together in a nice, cozy apartment, and he thinks it’s a pretty beautiful image.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised more action, so the first part is a lot of active angst, the second part is a lot of active pain. Hahahah. ;_;

When he opens his eyes, the sun is long gone and the room is dark.

Wade stares at the wall, moving his tongue to get rid of the weird feeling lingering in his mouth after sleeping for so long, then he notices his position.

He is hugging Peter and Peter’s head is pressed on his chest, his deep breaths muffled by the spandex. His long fingers are clasping the fabric of his costume, like he is a lifeline, and Wade momentarily stops thinking, just admiring the sight that a Peter sleeping against him is.

Did they move in their sleep? Or did Peter pulled him close?

_‘Stop fooling yourself, Wade.’_

After what he did in the bathroom a few hours ago, having Peter so near is even more difficult. The strong arousal he woke up with before - and that forced him to go to the bathroom to take care of it - slowly comes back and Wade lets out a desperate, needy whine. He already feels so disgusting, so… _filthy_. He masturbated, imagining Peter in his arms and his lips on his body, while the young man was sleeping in the next room.

Filthy, perverted freak. That’s what he is.

_‘God, what if he woke up! What would I have done then? He would hate me if he knew. He… he would scream at me. And he would be right. I am a fucking degenerate.’_

His arms tightens around the hero and he leans down, breathing heavily, unable to stop himself despite his self-hatred and loathing. There is the familiar warmth pooling in his groin, every fiber of his being tenses up and he closes his eyes when he brushes his chapped lips across the soft, smooth, slightly sweaty forehead of Peter.

Surely a chaste kiss cannot hurt, can it? He won’t imagine other scenes, he won’t touch him in any creepy and disrespectful way… he just has to calm his body and a kiss so simple and light can help. He can’t afford going out of the room to jack off again. He can’t risk Peter seeing him, it would _destroy_ him, it would destroy everything good that was born between them, Wade is sure of this.

But he longs for more contact and slowly moves his mouth over the nose, then to the hairline. Peter’s hair is really soft as he thought and one of his hands gently strokes the brown locks. He keeps pressing feather-light kisses on his brow until Peter starts stirring.

He immediately stops and closes his eyes, pretending to be still asleep. He can feel Peter’s surprise, the confusion in finding himself so close to him. Is he grossed out? Angry? Annoyed?

_‘Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes…’_

He keeps repeating himself these words not only to convince Peter he is really still sleeping, but also because he can’t bear to see his expression right now. He expects the young man to push him away and get out of the bed, but his surprise is big when Peter does nothing and stays in the bed with him, his fingers still grasping his costume.

_‘… Maybe he didn’t wake up at all?’_

He tentatively opens one eye, only to let out a tiny, pitiful yelp. Peter is fully awake and staring at him with a blank face.

“U-Uh…”

“Hi.”

“H-Hi?”

Wade doesn’t have the courage to look at him in the eyes, not after what he did in the bathroom. He feels even less unworthy of his help, attention, and care than before. Mustering all his strength, he forces himself to look at the wall and window behind Peter’s back, but as soon as the young man speaks his eyes dart back to him in a second.

“How did you sleep?”

_‘I got a huge boner for you and left to jack off, but overall I slept pretty well, no nightmares, your presence made me feel safe.’_

“Good, good.” he clears his throat, showing a grin. “And you?”

“Good. This bed is kinda comfy.” Peter smiles back at him and Wade melts. He tries to come up with something to say, anything that could let them stay in bed like this for a little more. He knows that when Peter will notice the dark sky full of stars, he will want to go on patrol.

His crazy mind actually finds a memory from a few days ago that intrigued him since from the start, so he asks, trying not to sound curious: “So… gotta go to work tomorrow? Or… later, I guess. I think it’s already tomorrow. So, umh…”

_‘Good job, dumbass! Now he knows it’s night and we have to go!’_

Wade doesn’t even need his voices anymore to curse himself and his hold around Peter automatically tightens when the young man looks back, at the window, and sees how late it is.

“God, what time is it?”

Wade wears a wristwatch when he doesn’t forget it or his skin allows it; he is wearing one now and before he can stop himself, before he can think about it, he provides the answer with clarity and a little bit of pride, happy to help Peter.

“It’s 1AM. We slept like two sloths.”

_‘… Fuck! I shouldn’t have told him!’_

With his great relief, though, Peter doesn’t scramble out of bed and tells him to hurry. He sighs and relaxes, even closing his eyes.

“It’s still early. We can wait some more before going.” He looks back at Wade with a smile. “Yes, I have to go to work after the patrol.” his expression turns into a suffering, worried frown. “God, I look forward to see Jonah’s angry mug after what happened today.”

“Wait, wait, wait… You work with Jameson?!” Wade stares at him in disbelief, blinking stupidly. “What do you do?”

Peter sighs, his smile comes back - and Wade can’t help but feel happy at the sight - and answers, knowing perfectly the effect his words will have: “I work at The Daily Bugle. I am a photographer.”

Wade keeps blinking at him until the laughter bubbling inside him bursts out, filling the room with its booming, warm sound. Peter laughs with him, his cheeks reddening, and he admits, almost hiding his face into Wade’s chest: “I know, I know! It sucks ass!” He looks up at Wade, who is still laughing, his hot breath caressing his hair. “There are some positive points in working there, though! I am Spider-Man and Jonah has no idea. I am the one who takes the photos he is so obsessed about and I get paid for them.” Wade laughs harder and Peter joins him; it’s the first time they are laughing like this together, just enjoying the cheerful, happy sound the other makes. They are still clinging to each other and Wade puts his head in the crook of Peter’s neck, giggling: “Your job is to take selfies of your butt.”

“Yes.” Peter giggles in return and lets him stay there, pressed to his neck, laughing into his skin until they are both out of breath.

Then the young man says softly, resting a hand on the back of Wade’s head: “See? I didn’t get scared.”

Wade stiffens and his shoulders, which were shaking with the last fit of chuckles, tenses up.

“Your face, I mean.” Peter explains, sensing his confusion. “I didn’t get scared by it when I woke up.”

The merc takes in a deep breath and slowly calms down, raising his head a bit to look at Peter. His eyes looks feverish, full of that strong, wild fire the hero has seen before.

“If you work for The Daily Bugle, then you were one of the first people who saw those photos.” he says, his tone blank, terribly devoid of any emotions.

“Yes.” Peter admits, his voice a whisper. Wade narrows his eyes, not because he is angry, but because he is thinking, focused on something important. His arms, so big and strong, are still wrapped around Peter like ivy, and pull him closer, so much he can’t possibly imagine a tighter hug than this. Still, Peter doesn’t let him go. He keeps a hand on his head and the other on his costume, holding him with delicateness.

“Peter.” Wade’s eyes becomes sad now, his mouth is hot and dry against his skin. “I am sorry for… for what happened there. For that kiss and… the one I gave you here.”

“It’s okay.” Peter’s lips curl upwards, but it’s a strained smile, full of tension and worry. “Don’t think about it.”

“No! I… I want to talk about this now!” One of Wade’s hands goes up to his hair and grabs gently a fist of brown locks; he desperately needs something to hold onto and, at the same time, to beg Peter to listen to him.

He knows his eyes are crazy and panicky again, but the hero doesn’t wriggle away, supporting him in that strange, so intimate embrace Wade can’t get enough of.

“It wasn’t a bet!” the merc continues, repeating what he told him on the rooftop. Peter smiles gently and nods.

“I know, Wade.”

“A-And… And I wasn’t talking to Jameson when I said those words!”

_‘I can do this. It’s the right time. I can do this. He will understand.’_

Peter’s eyes soften - God, he is so beautiful! - and Wade closes his for a moment, relishing in his touch and warmth. When he reopens them, Peter is still looking at him, waiting patiently.

“I was talking to you.”

“I know.”

Wade licks his lips, raises a bit to be face to face, cups his cheek and Peter doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back away, doesn’t glare or complain. He just waits, worry and sadness - _‘why is he sad?’_ \- written all over his face.

“I love you.” Wade says, his hands shaking. There is silence here, they are alone, his voice and words fill every part of this room, and their meaning reaches Peter, who blushes and repeats, almost inaudible despite the quietness: “I know.”

Wade is pretty sure his heartbeat can be heard throughout the whole neighborhood; he is relieved that the voices aren’t back yet, because this is between him and Peter, it doesn’t belong to his mental illnesses, to the several problems that haunt his being since forever. This is something he must try to do alone, like a normal man, without any obsession, paranoia, attack.

This love is _his_ and his alone.

So he breathes, never stops staring at Peter, and babbles, like a scared child: “Sorry, it’s not the best declaration in the world. W-Well, not because it’s simple - that too, but… it comes from me, so it’s automatically shitty and… and…”

_‘No, no, I must stay on track! Stupid brain! Stupid tongue!’_

Peter’s expression is even sadder than before and Wade wouldn’t have believed that possible. There is something bothering him and the merc panics again.

“I understand, really, I know it fucking sucks to hear a… a disgusting freak say that he loves you.” Wade bites his lips, presses his thumbs on Peter’s cheeks, his forehead against his and continues, talking fast, tripping over words: “I am not someone desirable, I am crazy, I am ugly as fuck, I am mentally unstable and… and…!” he gulps, grateful to feel Peter’s touch on his head. His other hand has moved on his back and it’s clinging to the costume there. Peter never stopped looking at him and Wade gulps a second time before continuing: “I am sorry I am not a hero. I am sorry I am not someone better.”

Tears are prickling his eyes, but he notices when they are already streaming down his face. He hides his face into Peter’s neck again and when he starts talking, his lips touch his skin and he can’t stop himself from kissing it as he speaks: “I am sorry…! I… I just…!”

He is aware of losing every trace of composure and when he looks up at the young man again, when he sees his sad eyes - _‘Why?! Why is he sad?!’_ \- he starts sobbing openly.

“If… If I had been handsome and normal… If I hadn’t been a scarred, insane, disgusting freak…” Wade grabs Peter’s face, searching for an answer in it, his body laying completely on his, so lithe and lean. Peter keeps listening, still clinging to him, eyes wide with shock, fear as big as Wade’s, and sadness, _so much sadness_.

“If I hadn’t been _this_ … would you have loved me? Even… even a little bit?”

He doesn’t wait for Peter’s reply; he leans down again, but doesn’t kiss him, just rests his forehead on his chest, crying and wailing on it. Peter’s hands caress his back and head, slowly, long fingers brushing over the scabs and scars on his skin.

“I am sorry!” Wade repeats, interrupted by sobs and whimpers. “I-I am sorry!”

It shouldn’t have gone like this. Everything was going so nice, they slept in each other’s arms, they laughed together!

_‘I ruined everything. As always.’_

“Wade.” Peter’s soft whisper slowly drags him back from the despair he has fallen into. His sobs subside and he sniffs, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks.

Peter is still looking extremely discouraged, helpless, sorry, but when he smiles, the whole room seems to be illuminated brightly.

“You don’t need to be someone better to be loved.”

Wade stares at him in shock and confusion. Of course he needs to! Nobody could love someone like him! _Peter_ can’t love him if he keeps being so… so…

Then an idea occurs to him and he timidly raises a bit, tugging at his Spider-Man costume; he must look like a lost puppy now, but his voice is hoarse and gravelly when he asks: “If… If I manage to become a hero… if this whole thing we are doing will work… do you think you could you love me?” He tugs at the spandex a second time, his sight blurred by the tears again. “I can do nothing for my face, but I can cover it! I will _always_ hide it behind the mask, I swear, you won’t have to look at it!”

“Wade!”

Peter sits up with urgency and Wade has to do the same, since they are embracing so tightly; the young man shakes his head, at loss for words.

“Don’t… don’t say anything like that ever again!” he exclaims, studying Wade’s every little reaction. He sighs when the scarred man lowers his head to hide his face from him.

“God, Wade, why does every progress we make go back to nothing? Why do I always make mistakes with you? What do we do wrong?” Peter turns his head towards the window and Wade sees his glossy eyes, the tense line of his mouth, the clenched jaw.

_‘Is he crying too?’_

No! He is the one who is a disaster! The one who complicates things every single time, the one who ran away, the one who screamed at Peter and attacked him… he is the one who never gets anything right!

Peter on the contrary did everything he could to help. He already did so much for him, he doesn’t have to cry!

And Wade wants to tell him so, thank him again, but he is not good with words, he is only good at killing and hurting people, so he takes Peter’s head in his hands, gently tilts it and dries the tears from his long eyelashes with his thumbs.

“I didn’t mean you were a horrible person when I said I wanted to help you, Wade.” Peter murmurs, guilt written all over his face. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Make you feel like the better man _you_ wanted to be. I… I didn’t want to imply that you were a monster or…” he sighs, frustrated because he is not good at saying what he wants to say either. “You are not a monster, Wade.”

He gasps when Wade’s lips touch his cheek and he clings to him again when the merc says: “I know, Petey. You told me on the rooftop.”

Wade’s heart flutters with joy when Peter moves his head to rest it on his collarbone and murmurs: “I care about you, Wade.”

It’s more than anything he was hoping for. It’s everything he needs. If he can’t have Peter’s love, then his care and affection will be all he needs to be happy.

“It’s enough for me.” he says, the heaviness in his chest and head disappear in a second, relief and joy flow through him, filling him to the brim. He smiles, the tension gone, and he kisses Peter’s lips one last time, a chaste, soft peck that leaves him breathless and content. But Peter is still sad, his eyes are big with guilt and something else Wade cannot comprehend.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, now taking his hands. “Is… Is it for what I told you before? Sorry, I lost my control and exaggerated.” he clears his throat, mortified. “Sorry. I won’t make a scene like that again, I promise. I didn’t want to scare or annoy you, Peter. I… I won’t tell you again that I love you, if it bothers you.”

“Stop saying you are sorry!” the young man shouts, making him jump out of his skin. His hands clutches his and Wade flinches, because Peter is stronger than him and he is using his super-strength, even if involuntarily.

“You don’t have to be sorry!” Peter continues, a strange rage now twisting his soft features. Wade gawks at him, unable to understand, but doesn’t interrupt him. “You are not the one who has to be sorry!”

“W-What?”

 _Now_ Peter pushes him away, but it looks more like to fuel his personal rage in peace than a real wish to be far from him.

“How… how do you even do that…?” he asks, his voice low, distant as his eyes, and Wade still doesn’t understand. He shakes his head to let him know so and Peter snarls, turning away and taking the mask he put on the nightstand.

“How can you be so happy after all those tears? How can your mood change so fast after what you told me and hearing that… that I…” he stops, his eyes shimmering in the half-darkness of the room. “Are you really happy with that?”

Wade thinks about it; not for long, because he already knows the answer. So he nods and replies with a sincere, timid smile: “Yes.”

And it’s true, he is really happy with that simple ‘I care about you’. Nobody ever cared about him and even if his love for Peter is unrequited, knowing that the young man cares for him fills his heart with a warm, comforting feeling of peace. He knows he can’t hope for more, but ‘care’ is enough. ‘Care’ means ‘not hate’ and if Peter doesn’t hate him, then everything is right in the world.

Peter’s reaction is not the one he expected, because he whines, covers his face with both hands and sighs into them. He stays like that for a long time, shaking his head once in a while, his shoulder heaving, and for a terrible moment Wade fears he is crying. But when he finally shows his face again, his eyes are dry, even though they haven’t lost that strange sadness and guilt.

“We should go now.” he says with a rough voice and Wade quickly puts on his mask and boots, takes his weapons and joins him at the window. He feels light; crying everything out was good and now that he explained Peter how he feels, now that he declared in peace his love for him and they made things clear, he can breathe better. He still feels like a pervert for what he did in the bathroom, but he swears to himself that it won’t happen again… not when he is in the same house with Peter anyway.

He grins at the young man, cracks a joke about riding him again, but without sexy double meanings or rudeness; Peter doesn’t answer, lets him wrap his legs and arms around his body and swings out of the room.

“Where are we going, sweetums?” he inwardly grimaces, adding: “Sorry. Can I still use nicknames? You told me I can on the rooftop, but now that you know for sure that I…”

“Yes, you can use them.” Peter interrupts him, a bit coldly, and Wade tries not to think about it.

_‘There is too much on his mind because of me. From now on, no more heart-wrenching scenes! No more tears in front of him, Wilson! … Only when you are alone.’_

He rests his head on Peter’s shoulder as they swing above the city and between the skyscrapers, heading to an unknown location. He doesn’t care, though. As long as he is with Peter and can help him during his patrols, enjoying his company, he is happy.

So he closes his eyes and starts talking about simple, funny things, hoping to ease Peter’s worry, to make him smile and laugh again. He misses that sound.  
  
  


\- - -  
  
  


God, he feels so _wretched!_ He is the monster, not Wade! He is the one who minimized his love with a simple “I know”, the one who could just say “I care about you”! And Wade accepted it, he is _happy_ with those horrible, selfish, cruel words!

Does this prove he really doesn’t have any respect for himself? That he would be satisfied with any kind of affection, despite the force and importance of his own feelings?

 _‘He is selfless.’_ Peter thinks, now having fully realized it; he distractedly hears the merc talking into his ear about this and that. _‘He is a good man. He is already a good man!’_

Rage for himself fills him again, together with a pang of pain and remorse when he thinks about Wade’s smile, his tears, his second declaration of love, those _questions_.

The Avengers were wrong. Wade isn’t the one who will suffer being with him. Peter _is_ , because he can’t bear to stay in his company knowing he can just say “I know” when offered a love so big and strong. He doesn’t want to offend Wade’s love, to make it appear stupid and ugly. He doesn’t want to disrespect him.

 _‘How can he be happy with that?!’_ he thinks for the millionth time, gritting his teeth. _‘How can he love me when all I do is acknowledging his feelings?’_

He needs to stop somewhere to catch his breath, which has become heavy, not due to the effort of using the webs and swinging, but due to the too powerful emotions raging in his heart.

“Peter?” Wade calls, a hint of worry in his voce. “Are you okay?”

“I…”

Then his spider-senses attack and his head automatically turns towards a small building a few meters bellows; he abruptly turns around and swings over there, his senses overloaded.

“What’s wrong?!” Wade yells over the sound of the wind whistling in their ears and on their faces. “Alien shit?”

“Maybe!”

They land in the courtyard adjacent the building; two children are playing with a set of tiny, colorful sparkles near a water cistern, probably used by the residents, and they open their little mouths in sheer surprise when they see the two superheroes.

“Hey, kids!” Wade waves at them, jumping off Peter, who frantically looks around, trying to find whatever caused his spider-senses to go crazy.

“What are you doing out here at this hour?” the merc asks, but he is smiling, interested in their game. The children - a young boy and his younger sister - giggle and point at a row of windows.

“We sneaked out.” the boy explains. “To play with these. Dad bought them for us!”

“Funny!” the sister adds with a tinkling laugh, raising her arms. “So many colours!”

“Yeah, they sure are beautiful, kid.” Wade agrees, ruffling their hair. Then he turns to Peter, who is still nervous and scared. “Spidey! I think these fireworks did the thing!”

“No.” Peter swallows a big lump in his throat, cold sweat running down his back. “No, there is… there is something else here.”

Wade frowns and urges the kids to move while looking at every tile and cranny in the walls. The little ones aren’t bothered, on the contrary they look excited to be so near to superheroes, especially two who are particularly famous right now.

“Is it a date?” the little girl asks and Wade looks down at her with shock.

“W-What, princess?”

“Are you and Spidey on a date right now?” the boy clarifies with a toothy smile and Wade clears his throat, rubs his neck and shakes his head. A few meters away, Peter pretends to be too busy looking for dangerous devices, but he is pretty sure his heart is going to explode.

“No, sweeties.” Wade replies with a little smile. “We are on patrol.”

“But you kissed him!” the girl insists, furrowing her tiny brows. “It was _sooo_ beautiful!”

“And romantic!” the brother adds, bouncing on his feet. “It wasn’t a bet, was it?”

“Uh…” Wade looks back at Peter, but when he doesn’t receive any answer, he chuckles and kneels to look at the children right in the face.

“Well…” he whispers in a conspiratorial tone. “I guess I can tell you. You look like clever kids, so it can’t be helped.” he laughs again and admits: “No, it wasn’t a bet. I am in love.”

“Oooh!”

The girl claps and the boy folds his arms with a smug smile.

“I knew it!” they say in unison; Wade takes one of their sparkles, still burning and frizzling, and draws shapes on the ground with it, shapes that resemble hearts.

“Yeah.” he continues with a smile. “It’s a good feeling. The best in the world.”

Peter bites his lips, walks towards the cistern, trying to ignore the conversation and the sound of the fireworks.

_‘Focus on the danger. There is something here, you know it. Focus on that!’_

“Does he love you too?” the boy asks with innocence and Peter tenses up, his whole being waiting for Wade’s answer.

“That’s not important!” the merc’s voice is cheerful. “Really, it doesn’t matter! I understand why he doesn’t love me and I respect that.”

_‘Focus. Focus.’_

“So… you can’t kiss him again?” the girl asks, apparently saddened by the thought.

“If he doesn’t want me to, then no, I can’t.”

“So… he rejected you?” the boy raises his eyebrows in sad surprise. “That’s rough! Aren’t you sad?”

Wade chuckles again and this time it’s a melancholic sound.

_‘Focus. There must be something here. Don’t listen. Focus.’_

“Well, I…”

“Wade!”

The merc gets up, the sparkle still in his hand, and looks at Peter with great attention.

“Did you find something?”

“I… I could use a hand.” Peter fidgets on the spot, unable to return his gaze. “Can you please start looking for any weird thing that seems off?”

“Like… Skrull boogers?” Wade jokes and the kids giggle. “Oh! Maybe their dirty graffiti! Skrulls are such bad, vulgar vandals!”

“Yes, that counts too.” Peter snorts, then his lips twitch and he finally laughs together with Wade and the children.

And just when their laughs become louder - so much they probably woke someone up -, he hears it.

A beep, coming from under the cistern.

He turns around, gets down on his knees and peeks under the rusty metal.

“ _Wade!_ ”

His scream is full of urgency and terrified; Wade immediately understands, but instead of taking away the children - as Peter expected him to do - he rushes over to him and grabs his costume to push him away.

“Go!”

“We have to take it out, it-”

“It’s going to explode!” Wade roars, opening wide his arms in front of the cistern. “Take the children and go!”

Peter hesitates, because he knows what’s going to happen, he knows what Wade wants to do and it’s _wrong_ , they talked about this, he can’t do this…

But then the beeps are faster, they express only danger, death, and Peter remembers the children, frozen on their skinny legs, surrounded by their sparkles.

“Go, for fuck’s sake!” Wade shouts, pushing him a second time. “Run!”

Peter looks at him one last time before rushing to the kids and taking them in his arms; he realizes it’s too late when Wade curses and the beeps stop for a millisecond. He doesn’t have the time to shoot a web and escape from the courtyard, but he can use his web-shooters to protect the little ones from the shock wave.

With quick, expert gestures and flicks of his wrists, he makes a web shield and the last thing he sees before the explosion is Wade curled on the bomb he has just retrieved from under the cistern, bended over it to reduce the blast and its effects.

“ _Wade!_ ” Peter screams, deafened by the roar of the explosion and the water falling over them and filling every part of the courtyard. He hears the children cry and moves his body and the web shield closer to them, yelping when the icy water touches him and sends them against the nearest wall.

He hits his head against the hard stone and before losing completely consciousness, he thinks about Wade, about his pain, about his sacrifice, about the children’s fear and safety.

He closes his eyes and his head falls on his chest; the web shield is still covering him and the two kids, and the cold water around them is red and sticky.

_‘Wade…’_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are blood and a lot of gore in this chapter, so please beware!

“So…” Captain America rubs his eyes, sighs through his nose, and concludes: “What happened exactly?”

“Skrull bomb.” Peter answers with a croaky voice, so feeble and weak he doesn’t recognize it. “Under the cistern.”

There is a warm blanket wrapped around his body, Iron Man has scanned his head one last time to detect any anomaly and the other Avengers are helping the police to clean up the mess in the courtyard and reassure the people living there. The two children are in their parents’ arms, still shaken, but safe, and Cap made sure to give them the same Avengers blanket Peter has. When they saw the logo on it and felt the special fabric, their terrified eyes lit up for a moment.

“And you didn’t notice it before? Your senses…”

“They worked.” Peter explains; there is a strong heaviness pressing against his neck, making his head throb, but he just licks his dry lips and continues: “I sensed that something was off, but I couldn’t find the exact spot. The beeping didn’t started until a few seconds before the detonation.”

“God.” Cap looks around with a grim face; the floor and walls are still wet, but there is a grate at the center of the courtyard which drained away all the water; now all that remains is a vague reddish hue on the tiles… and Wade’s limbs and organs, which have been put in a bag before the children could see them. Thankfully they lost consciousness just like Peter and when the three of them woke up, there were already the Avengers, some S.H.I.E.L.D. guys and the police taking care of things.

But Peter saw the bag, he knows what’s in there, and the pressure on his neck and head grows stronger, painful, and tears prickle his eyes. His costume is still damp and some parts are dyed red; he knows why and glances back at the children, now being examined by a doctor, to see if there is Wade’s blood on them too. The Avengers and the others must have cleaned them, or maybe he and his webs did a great job at covering them, because their bodies are not dirty nor soaked.

“Wade saved us.” he murmurs; the mask is hiding his tears, but Cap can hear them and looks surprised.

“He did?”

“He shielded us from the explosion. He put himself on the bomb.” Peter sniffs and looks up at Rogers with a pleading expression clearly visible even from under the spandex. “He… he will get better, right?” He looks at the bag, put in a corner, and gulps. “It… it won’t be painful for him, will it?”

Cap sighs, shaking his head.

“You should ask Logan.”

The mutant is a few meters away and when he sees Rogers’ nod in his direction, he walks over to them, a scowl etched on his hairy face.

“I thought you were away with the X-Men.” Peter says, but Logan ignores him to grumble: “What’s this story about a kiss and a bet, bub?”

Oh. What Wade told Jameson in the plaza this morning comes back to Peter and he blushes, looking away, but that only makes Logan more nervous.

“I come back from a tiring mission in some fucking God forsaken island and the first thing I see is a series of photos where you and Wilson are smooching each other’s face.” the mutant growls. “And everyone says it was a bet between me and him, but I know it’s _not_ true, so there must be something really strange going on here. And then, this!” he opens wide his arms, pointing at the entire place. “A fucking explosion with two children involved!”

“I am sorry.” Peter offers with the most emotion his exhausted mind and body can afford right now. “It’s… it’s complicated.”

“Not, it’s simple as fuck.” Logan corrects him, but even if his tone is hard and heated, he is not really angry. He looks almost curious and above all surprised. “I heard on the TV what Wilson said today. That ‘I love you’ wasn’t a joke aimed at the mayor.”

“No…”

Peter lowers his gaze and the bearded man mutters a curse, shakes his head, exchanges a look with Cap and adds, trying to sound gentler: “Well, I… I wish you luck then. I don’t wanna know what’s between you two, what your feelings for him are, I honestly don’t wanna interfere. Just… don’t get his hopes up if you can’t return his love, okay? Wilson is like a child and he has already many problems. We don’t want him to become even crazier and unstable.”

Guilt burns Peter like he imagines the explosion did with Wade, because he honestly doesn’t know if he has been getting his hopes up until now, if every word he said and every little thing he did only managed to make Wade feel worse. Maybe it’s the contrary, maybe Wade _really_ is happy just knowing he cares for him, just having his friendship.

Then Logan concludes with an embarrassed face: “If you are already together, then good luck with _that_. If it’s that what floats your boat, I can’t stop you, bub. Maybe you will convince him to shower once in a while… and coming from me, it means a lot.”

Peter laughs softly, not confirming nor denying the mutant’s supposition. He remembers the question he asked Cap and quickly repeats it: “Will it hurt? The regeneration, I mean.” His pleading and hopeful look is effective, because Logan groans and rubs his neck, glancing at the bag, which is being zipped closed in that exact moment and brought over to them by Clint.

“Wilson’s situation sucks.” the mutant says as if that wasn’t clear already. “His cancer makes everything worse and I can tell for sure that growing back limbs and organs is pretty painful. I don’t know how his skin reacts after an explosion, but it’s probably not… pleasant.”

Peter nods, tightening his jaw and lips to avoid pitiful tears in front of Logan and Cap, and when Clint arrives he focuses immediately on the bag. It’s a big, blue duffel bag and there are already some bloodstains on it; no smell comes from it, though, and Peter tries to imagine how Wade’s body looks like right now. He shivers, because the thought is horrible and he _can’t_ really imagine the pain the merc will go through, the feeling of the skin, tissues and muscles slowly reforming…

“How long will it take?” he asks, his voice a whisper, and Logan shrugs.

“The regeneration already kicked in. It should be complete in a few hours, but Wilson’s healing factor is faster than mine. It may take less.”

“Okay.”

Peter slowly gets up, waits a moment to make sure his legs can support him, then takes the bag. It’s surprisingly light and it’s like it’s filled with water or some liquid. He shivers again.

“I will take care of him.”

While Logan don’t look even remotely surprised, Cap furrows his brows and Clint gawks at him and a hint of disgust appears on his face.

“Are you sure you can’t wait? How do you feel?” Rogers asks, eying him with a critical eye.

“Maybe you should sit down and wait for us to accompany you.” Clint insists.

“I am fine.”

It’s a lie; his head is still throbbing and he feels dizzy, but he can do this. He has been in worse shape in the past and he doesn’t really want to have company now. He wants to lay Wade down on a bed as soon as possible, without wasting time with useless little talks, doubts and questions, which are all visible in Barton and Cap’s eyes.

“Really, I am fine! Please, let me go home, I don’t want Wade to wake up inside a bag!”

“So you are taking him to _your_ apartment? Not to the Tower?” now Cap can’t hide all his surprise and Peter realizes they don’t know yet.

“I won’t bring him to the Tower or another place where you can lock him up like a criminal or a lunatic.” he answers, fury bubbling inside him, as if someone set fire to his soul. There is injustice in the air, like a heavy boulder on their shoulders; it’s the strong distrust Cap feels for the scarred man he once considered savable, but not anymore. “I live not far from here and my place is definitely healthier than Wade’s. He already knows my secret identity anyway.”

“ _What?_ ”

Logan curses under his breath while Rogers stares at Peter with disapproval and bigdisappointment.

“You should have talked with us first!”

“It’s _my_ secret identity!” Peter yells, growing frustrated. The other superheroes and people in the courtyard turn to look at them, worried, and he lowers his voice. “It’s… it’s my choice and I chose to trust him completely!”

“You saw how unstable he is! He _shot_ at you! Before the Skrulls attacked, you were going to him to calm him down after a psychotic attack!”

“Wait, wait…” Logan scratches his chin, the small smile back to linger on his lips. “He shot at you? Without killing you?”

“I am still here, right?” Peter gruffly replies, but his scowl turns into a grateful expression when the mutant says: “That means he could still think straight, Cap. He didn’t lose completely his mind, otherwise Spider-Man wouldn’t be alive.” He turns serious. “I know Wilson. When he shoots, it’s to kill someone. When he doesn’t, it means there is a very important reason not to. In this case, it’s probably…” he shrugs and pronounces the next words as if they are in a foreign language: “… love, I suppose.”

Peter blushes and Cap sighs exasperatedly.

“Maybe, but he is still dangerous and unpredictable. Parker…” he lowers his voice as well and glares at the young hero, who gladly returns the angry look. “The identity is yours, but you are _also_ an Avenger and you could put into danger the whole group. I already told you, this is not a game.”

“Wade isn’t dangerous.” Peter replies, the hand gripping the handle of the bag painfully tightening around it. “He saved those children! He is a _hero!_ ”

He has shouted the last words and now everyone in the courtyard is convinced they are arguing; fortunately nobody dares to say something and Peter doesn’t look away from Cap’s furious look, doesn’t back away. Only when the super soldier finally gives in and sighs for the millionth time, he relaxes.

“Do what you think is most right, then.” Rogers’ frown wrinkles his face and shifts the strong muscles on his face. “I am going to talk with him after he is healed, though, and you cannot stop me.”

“… Very well.”

Clint steps in and changes topic, hoping to get rid of the bad mood surrounding them.

“So… what are you going to do exactly? Because the shit inside there is pretty gruesome and… I really have no idea how you are gonna deal with that.”

“This _shit_ ” Peter hisses, sure to have popped a vein by now “is Wade, a living person! And I want to help him!”

“He is not that ‘living’ right now!” Clint protests weakly, but he is mortified and doesn’t insist further. Now it’s Logan’s turn to speak.

“If necessary, you can touch him. Try not to interfere with the healing factor, though. Once Wilson is okay, make him take a hot bath. It usually helps, at least for me. And he will be hungry, a lot, so prepare to have your fridge emptied.”

His tone is gentle and his eyes full of understanding, so Peter forces himself to calm down to smile gratefully at him.

“Got it, thanks. I am going now.”  He nods at the three men one last time and starts to walk away. Suddenly the bag feels heavier and he hopes Wade isn’t already conscious. He really doesn’t want him to wake up there, like a dead, useless body. Without _dignity_.

Then he hears Clint’s chuckle and can’t help but turn back to glare at him.

“What now?”

“Nothing.” Clint stays quiet for a second, then changes his mind and quickly continues: “I was right. You really do care for him! We spoke in the jet while we were coming to the battlefield, you know?”

Peter blushes, embarrassed by Cap and Logan’s presence; however he is curious to know more, to know what Wade told the archer, what he was thinking in that moment…

“And… and what did he say?”

“That you were a too good man with a hero complex that wanted to fix things that couldn’t be fixed. But he was grateful, I could see it, and he believes in you. He loves you. It’s not the usual, platonic crush someone has for their favorite hero, it’s something different. Deeper, more meaningful and…” Clint shrugs with a soft smile, which looks almost nostalgic. “… beautiful.”

“What, you are a poet now?” Logan scoffs with a smile and Clint huffs, folding his arms.

“I am just trying to say that he could never hurt Parker.”

“I know.” Peter says, his cheeks burning, as well as his chest. “I know. He is a good person.”

_‘And I don’t deserve his love.’_

He goes before the silence becomes too overwhelming and awkward, before his voice betrays his emotion and Wade comes back to life. The pressure on his head is slowly fading away, he is breathing better and before leaving the courtyard he waves at the two children, who are now giggling as Iron Man himself examines them.

“Spidey!” the little girl calls and he stops, although every fiber in his body is telling him not to, to hurry and go home.

“Where is Deadpool?” the boy asks and Peter answers with a sad smile: “They… they brought him to the hospital so he can get better.”

The two children run to him, despite Iron Man’s protests (“Kids, don’t strain yourselves!”), and look up at him with big, anxious eyes.

“He can heal faster, right? We know he can!”

“Like the gruff man with all those hairs!” the girl clarifies pointing at Logan, who hears them and immediately walks away with a grunt and the tiniest of blushes on his cheeks.

“Yes.” Peter confirms, hiding the bag behind his legs. “He is gonna be fine soon, I promise.”

“He saved you and us.” the boy giggles and adds: “He really loves you a lot!”

“Even if you don’t love him, can you give him a thank-you kiss?” the girl asks with a pleading look, tugging at his costume, and Peter feels wretched and disgusting again, just like he did when he and Wade were still swinging above the city before his senses started tingling.

If he was finally breathing normally just a few seconds ago, now it’s like he has just climbed a mountain.

“Y-Yes.” he croaks out with a strained smile. “Yes, I will do that.”

The kids smile back at him, happy and innocent, and hug his waist.

“Thank you for protecting us, mister Spidey!” then they step back and grin. “Please give mister Deadpool our thanks too!”

“O-Of course.” Peter is choking on _air_ and he is not sure how much longer he can stay there before breaking down completely due to panic and a terrible pain in his chest he cannot explain and give a name to. Thankfully, the children don’t seem to notice anything, so they just run back to their parents and Iron Man (“Don’t run!”), waving at him.

Peter waves back at them, tears prickling his eyes for the third time that night.

The bag is heavier, now, and he forces his legs to move, leaving the courtyard with clenched jaw and shaking shoulders.  
  
  


\- - -  
  
  


He doesn’t even know how the hell he managed to reach his apartment, but when he finally steps into the dark living room, he sighs with relief and can’t actually believe he did it. He didn’t cry during the whole trip, but he concentrated so much not to do it that he feels drained and filled to the brim with sad, dark, heavy emotions and pain.

Still, his suffering is nothing compared to Wade, so he hurries to the bedroom and places the bag next to the bed, taking in deep breaths before opening it.

He gasps and brings a hand to his face; the stench of burnt flesh and blood is unbearable, worse than anything he has ever smelled, even worse than the smell in Wade’s bedroom before they cleaned it. He closes his eyes to regain some composure, then walks over to the window, opens it and quickly goes back next to the bag, looking into it.

Wade’s body is a mass of bloody, scarred flesh, wide open in more parts; there are organs coming out from his belly, his neck is barely connected to the rest, there is a gaping hole in his head, where the eyes should be, and his hands are missing two or three fingers. His lower half is completely annihilated.

The sight is horrible, but Peter can’t stop looking. There is something almost _fascinating_ in the way Wade’s flesh is moving; every inch of skin, every cell of his body is busy fixing the damage; only the organs refuse to retreat back into their rightful place and Peter realizes he has to help the healing factor against simple physics.

So he removes his mask, throws it in a corner, and puts his hands into the bag, delicately lifting Wade, hoping no arm or leg will fall off.

He doesn’t care about the bed, he can always buy new sheets, so he lays Wade down there without thinking too much about it. He looks even worse in the moonlight and Peter can’t help the soft sob that comes out from his mouth.

“O-Okay…” he whispers, shaking hands hovering over the almost destroyed body. “It’s easy… Just push them back in. The healing factor will take care of the rest, right?”

Nobody is here to answer him, though, Wade can’t reassure him with his jokes and sweet smile and eyes, so Peter gulps, breathes and touches the organs, cringing when they make a squishy sound. It’s worse when he starts pushing them back into Wade’s body; they are sticky and rubbery and he fears he is making a mess, but the healing factor finally seems to notice their presence and once they are in, they are slowly relocated in the right spots, the flesh already closing above them. Peter draws away, staring with awed shock at the way the scarred skin is reforming in every part.

The neck is connected to the body again, Wade’s closed eyes have just appeared, his fingers are growing back one after the other. His legs, which were just a pulp, finally have a shape again and Peter blushes when he sees the manhood reforming among the blood and pieces of old flesh splattered all across Wade.

He waits at his side for a while, ready to help him, to assist his healing factor so that it can act faster; when the merc’s body finally starts to look human again, Peter leaves the bedroom for a moment to retrieve a damp, humid towel to clean all the blood. He can’t stand to see it anymore on Wade’s body, he knows he can’t get infections, but it still looks terribly unhygienic and he is sure a little bit of water will help with the pain.

 _‘God, his skin must hurt so much!’_ he thinks as he gently presses the cloth on the red, swollen flesh of the left arm. _‘Maybe I can put something in the hot water. Salts, do I have salts? Or… or a cream…’_

He also thinks about the food, worried that there may be nothing to satisfy Wade’s hunger after a so hard experience. He glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand: 3AM.

Just two hours ago Wade was with him, laying on his bed with a huge grin on his face, then tears, then a smile again. He was alive, in pain because of his cancer as always, but alive.

 _‘He was laughing.’_ and the thought alone is enough to make Peter sniff and force back the hot, stinging tears.

He moves the cloth to the scarred man’s face; he wants to see it well, to see it without blood on it…

But as soon as the wet fabric touches Wade, he springs up with a terrifying scream and seizes Peter’s wrists in a painful, almost bone-breaking grip.

“Leave me alone!” he shouts as Peter yells, his heart on the verge of exploding. “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!”

“W-Wade!” Peter calls, trying to wriggle free. “It’s me! It’s Peter!”

“You stupid, fucking doctor!” Wade growls, now his voice low, predatory, angry, dangerous. “I will fucking kill you! You crazy scientist, son of a bitch, shithead, I’m gonna put that saw you love so much right into your chest! We will see who screams louder!”

Peter gulps, mouth dry, adrenaline and terror pumping through his veins like acid.

_‘He thinks he is still at Weapon X?’_

He knows part of Wade’s past, he knows what they did to him, it’s no secret that the Weapon X program was inhuman. Still, together with a feral rage, there is a deep-rooted and enormous fear in Wade’s eyes, so big and clear Peter feels scared as well; not for himself, but for _Wade_ , who must have suffered only God knows what.

The merc is still gripping his wrists and Peter has to use his super-strength to break free, but this only causes Wade to howl and grab his Spider-Man costume to pull his closer.

“It hurts!” he now cries, tears running down his cheeks. Rage has disappeared from his disfigured, blood-soaked face; there is only despair and pain. “It hurts! Please stop! Kill me, I beg of you!”

Peter freezes and his mind is a white page, it does not give him any idea, reaction, word to use. He just stays there, shocked, as Wade keeps begging and pleading, wailing and crying, big, scarred body shaken by sobs.

Then something breaks in Peter; he looks at the man still clinging to him, at his ducked head, at the tears that fall from his face to the floor, and he cries with him, kneels down to better look at him, taking his head in his hands.

“Wade!” he cries, but the merc’s eyes are now distant, blank, lost in horrible memories, and Peter sobs, shaking his shoulder.

“Wade, it’s me! I am here!”

“Kill me kill me kill me kill me, please kill me, kill me kill me…”

“Shh, Wade, no! It’s me, Peter!” the young man repeats and through his tears he can see the fury come back in Wade’s eyes. His fingers claws at his spandex, his face is contorted into a growl.

“Don’t fucking touch Peter!” he howls, mistaking the hero for a scientist a second time. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“No! No!” Peter wants his voice to be clearer, to reach Wade among his attack and finally wake him from this living nightmare, but he is crying so hard he can barely speak. “W-Wade, _I_ am Peter! Look at me, don’t you recognize me?”

“Peter…” Wade is mumbling now; he drops his head on his chest, murmuring illegible words, broken sentences and random noises, similar to whines and whimpers. “Peter…”

“Yes, yes, think about me. Stop remembering those horrible things, think about me!” Peter delicately lifts him from the bed and is surprised to see that Wade can stand up without difficulty. He has never seen him so bare, nude; he is dirty with blood and pieces of flesh, organs, tendons, but even under that mess his muscles, his abs and deeply trained body are visible; on the contrary, the bright, slick red makes him appear toned, more alluring, it emphasizes his strength and features. He looks like a statue and Peter averts his eyes from his chest to settle them on his blank, exhausted face.

He is in a catatonic state, now, and Peter gently opens his hands, which are still gripping his costume, and holds them.

“Let’s go take a bath.” he says showing a trembling smile that Wade doesn’t see. He looks completely healed, there are no visible wounds on him anymore, only gruesome scars, swollen, red skin and scabs, so many scabs that appear every few seconds.

Peter takes him to the bathroom and starts filling the bathtub with hot water; thankfully there is still a decent amount, which should be enough to soothe Wade’s pain and help him relax. He doesn’t have any salts nor cream, though, and makes a mental note to go buy some as soon as possible.

As the water flows, he talks to Wade, to keep him anchored to their reality, to _this_ present and moment; he makes jokes - although they are stupid and without sense and he misses Wade’s snicker and his smug comments; he takes two towels, one to clean him again, the other one for when he will get out of the bathtub.

“I think there are some pancakes my Aunt bought for me last week.” he casually says, aware of how broken and tearful his voice sounds, but Wade doesn’t even seem to be feeling the cold touch of the wet towel on his chest, so Peter continues.

“I will make them for you, okay? You told me you liked pancakes, I remember that. I hope you will like them. I am sure they won’t be as good as yours, but…” Peter giggles, a nervous, crazy little laugh that shows how much he is losing it too. “But I will try. It can’t be that hard, right? There must be some instructions, I am good at following instructions, did I ever tell you I love science? I always read what I have to do in a chemistry lab twice. Cooking isn’t that different, right?”

He is babbling, but there is so much anxiety in his heart that he cannot stop; plus it seems like Wade is calmer, more attentive, and his eyes - which are devoid of life like Peter has seen them before - are slowly regaining some light, albeit not much.

The towel is drenched with blood, but he keeps cleaning the first layer of gore from the merc’s body until he can see the pale skin and scars under it. He looks at his hands, at the gloves of the costume, and hastily removes them, putting back his fingers on the expanse of Wade’s skin.

Some parts of it are hard, the texture rough and bumpy; others are completely smooth, soft, raw, and Peter grimaces for Wade when he touches them. Everywhere, there are deep, red lines, little holes showing the flesh underneath, those scabs that never stop coming out, and so much _heat_ , as if the fire of the explosion is now burning Wade from inside.

Peter sobs and the sound seems to startle the scarred man, who looks up from the floor - which he has been staring at since they entered the bathroom. He doesn’t look at Peter, but at the steamy water in the bathtub, and whispers, with a feeble, raspy voice:

“I don’t wanna go in there.”

“Wade, please.” Peter wipes away another droplet of blood from the merc’s face and gently pushes him towards the edge. “It’s going to help you!”

 _‘Oh God, I hope!_ _Logan says so! It must work, I don’t want him to suffer more!’_

He gulps and tries to appear reassuring, but since Wade refuses to look at him, he has to use his voice and that is a completely different story.

“Wade, it will help your skin and you have to clean yourself. Come on, lift your leg… like this…”

But when his foot touches the water, Wade lets out a bloodcurdling scream and clings to Peter.

“ _No!_ No more acid! I don’t want to!”

“It’s not acid!” Peter cries in return, supporting him with a hand and using the other to touch his face. “Wade, please, trust me! It’s not acid!”

The merc whimpers, staring at the water with dread and sheer horror; Peter dips a hand into it, hoping to convince him, and it seems to work, because Wade falls silent and doesn’t fight back when the younger man makes him lift a leg again.

He stands in the bathtub for some seconds and Peter never lets his hands go, he holds him until he is finally laying down into the hot water. For the whole time, the young man has talked, spoken reassuring things to calm the merc down, to show him that he is safe, that nothing and nobody can hurt him.

“See?” he smiles as Wade moves his arms over the surface, observing the little waves he makes with every movement. Peter is sitting next to the tub, resting on the edge of it; he is exhausted, his eyes are burning, they are probably bloodshot and red due to the tears, his chest is heavy, his head is light and empty, like a balloon without air.

But he stays with Wade, talks to him even if his tongue is like sandpaper and his legs ache. He carefully washes his back and head, helps him clean himself under his arms, adds more hot water. It’s like taking care of a child and Peter does it with patience and fondness, speaking with Wade of good things, of his Aunt, of the books and CDs he wants to buy. One of the most unsettling things - apart from the bathtub now filled with bloody water, the scarlet footprints on the tiles and the smell - is Wade’s silence. It’s like he is not hearing a thing, his eyes are still not clear and lively; his expression is devoid of emotions, only fear and rage occasionally change his expression.

Then, when Peter lets out a manic giggle without even knowing why, he blinks and his lips curl upwards.

It’s a tender, gentle smile and Peter stares at it, mouth wide open, like it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. It _is_ and he prays that Wade won’t _ever_ stop smiling, because the sight is like a balm for the soul.

“I fell in love.” Wade says; he is not speaking to Peter, though, probably to himself.

_‘Did the voices come back? Maybe, but I don’t think Wade is speaking to them. They seem to bring him a lot of pain and he looks so happy now.’_

“Who did you fall in love with?” Peter asks; Wade hears him, although he doesn’t recognize him, and his eyes are full of joy as he answers: “Peter Parker.”

The young man nods, cleaning his back a second time to keep himself busy as Wade continues: “At first I thought I fell in love with Spidey. Man, he is funny, hot, he helped me a lot, he is so patient! But then… but then I realized…” Wade giggles, a gorgeous sound that fills the room with a good kind of warmth that all the steamy water in the world could never provide. “I am not the only one who loves him! Everyone loves heroes! It’s so easy to fall in love with them, they are brave, powerful, beautiful, they save people’s lives! But nobody loves who is _behind_ the mask.”

Peter’s breath becomes ragged and his head spins a little; he has palpitations again and he can hear the blood being pumped all through his body like a wild stream.

“Nobody thinks that there must be an equally brave, powerful and beautiful person under that costume. How could they be so good and save people otherwise? They are not different people, yet everyone thinks the contrary!” Wade continues, looking at the tiles in front of him, glistening under the bright light from the ceiling. “Everyone loves just the _idea_ that the mask represents. But I know Spidey! I know him so well, he helped me!”

“And…” Peter clears his voice and continues in a whisper, because he doesn’t trust his voice: “What happened then?”

“I realized that I love the man behind the mask.” Wade replies. “I thought: ‘He is so gentle with me, he must be a really good person. Someone so good deserves all the happiness in the world.’ And I wanted to know him better. I wanted to be his friend, to repay him for his help, to become a better person for him. Not because I wanted Spider-Man’s, the _hero_ ’s approval, I wanted…” Wade’s smile turns sad, mortified. “I wanted to make the _man_ behind the mask happy and proud of me.”

“He is.” Peter whispers, taking his hand, but Wade doesn’t react and continues as if he hasn’t felt his touch: “Then he showed me his face. He trusted me and revealed his identity. Peter Parker.” He grins and giggles again. “I was right! He has the gentlest and most beautiful eyes in the world! And he kept helping me! He… he never stopped believing in me!”

“Wade…” Peter rubs his thumb on the rough knuckles and jumps when the merc suddenly turns to him, looking at him for the first time since they are in the bathroom. “I told him I love him.” his smile becomes sorrowful again and Peter feels like someone just punched him in the guts. “He can’t love me back, but it’s okay. I have a mask too, you know?” He grabs the edge of the bathtub, the grip so tight that his fingers crack and turn white. “I have a mask too, but nobody loves Deadpool.” Wade starts laughing and it’s not a good laugh, it’s desperate, too loud, maniacal. “It doesn’t matter if I wear it or not, I am _always_ Deadpool! And nobody can love me!”

“No!” Peter jumps forward and hugs him, not caring about the filthy water. Wade keeps laughing and sobbing at the same time, his fit of giggles interrupted by hiccups and whimpers. Peter listens to him, trembling and shaking, and keeps pulling him closer until it hurts. His head and chest are going to explode, in his mind Wade’s insane laughter resonates and grows stronger, stronger, stronger until nausea hits him hard.

“Wade, don’t say that! Please, don’t say that!” the young man shouts, but Wade doesn’t hear him; his laugh and crying slowly tone down, fade away until silence replaces them.

Peter holds his breath and pulls away; the merc has fallen asleep, his head is resting on his shoulder; he makes him rest down in the bathtub and gets up, hissing when his legs throb with pain and a strong headache starts splitting his head in half.

He observes the scarred man sleep for a moment; he looks in peace, relaxed, and Peter leaves the bathroom to go prepare breakfast with relative tranquility.

But he is _not_ calm and has to use all his strength to keep the tears at bay; he finds the pancakes and tries to read the instructions to cook them in the best way, but he can’t focus, so he improvises and hopes it will turn out good.

He puts two mugs on the kitchen counter, prepares coffee, tea and milk, not knowing what Wade prefers to drink, and two bowls to pour cereals in them.

Then, as everything is ready and he is about to go back to the bathroom to check up on Wade, the tears simply start streaming down his face.

He stops in front of the window and wails, his chest heaving, shoulders hunched forward, a hand on his face and the other around his waist. He cries and cries until he can’t make more sounds and his eyes sting; all the anxiety, fear, frustration, guilt pent up inside are devouring him, all the pain he feels for Wade and the disgust he feels for himself are tearing him apart and he is sure to be on the verge of a mental breakdown when a gentle hand touches his back.

He turns his head and sees Wade, with the clean towel he left in the bathroom wrapped around himself; he is staring at him in silence, but his blue, bright eyes express all the sad surprise he feels. Then the surprise becomes understanding and Wade softens, moves his hand to Peter’s hair and the young man sniffs, rubs his eyes - God, they must be so puffy! - and whimpers: “I am sorry, Wade.”

The scarred man shakes his head and brushes back his hair, a soft smile on his chapped lips. The towel is long and wide, but it’s loosely hanging on his broad shoulders, barely covering his waist, falling down like a cape. He looks like a commander from an ancient time, so tall and imposing, his naked, buff body glistening with humidity and dampness; despite the fresh scars and raw skin, he looks _beautiful_ and his eyes are gentle, sweet, tender; the only thing that is more gorgeous than them is his smile, which broadens when Peter rubs his face against the hand on it.

“Stop crying, Petey. You know I can’t bear to see you like this.” Wade says, stroking his cheek. He grins and Peter wants to pinch himself to make sure he is not dreaming. “Want me to crack some jokes? I know you secretly like them, admit it!”

Peter giggles, with true joy and relief, and replies: “I adore them.”

“I knew it!” then the merc suddenly glances down, at his bare body, and blushes, quickly trying to hide himself.

“S-Sorry. Didn’t want to… to… ” he stops and clears his throat and for a moment it looks like he wants to run back into the bathroom so Peter won’t have to see his marred body. But when Peter takes his hand and puts it back on his cheek, his blush deepens and he says with a timid smile: “Thanks for taking care of me. I feel so good! I never felt like this after an explosion!”

Peter steps forward until their bodies are touching; Wade looks confused, a little bit scared, but his smile doesn’t falter and Peter cups his cheek and says, with awe in his voice and eyes:

“Thank you for saving those children.”

And when Wade laughs softly, scars and scabs shifting all over his face, the corners of his mouth wrinkling, and stares into his eyes with a loving expression, Peter feels _love_ burst inside himself, so good, so powerful, so _strong_ he is overwhelmed by it and has to lean on the older man.

Suddenly all the bad emotions, thoughts, guilt and suffering that were eating him disappear and Peter laughs, pulls Wade closer, sees the surprise and incredulity in his eyes, takes his head in his hands and places his lips on his.

Wade hesitates for a moment, then moans and wraps his arms around him, a hand in his hair and the other on his back, and Peter giggles into his lips, then pulls slightly away and says between soft kisses:

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HAPPENING. I apologize in advance for my smut (and any typo), I am not the best at it ;_; But I finally managed to write a whole chapter of fluff. I've had it bottled inside for so long that writing this part felt really good. I don't know how many chapters are left, but I have some interesting ideas in mind, so don't worry! Thank you once again for reading, I hope you will enjoy this!

When Peter pulls away, Wade’s first instinct is to grab a knife and slice off two or three fingers to see if this is truly happening. And so he does, running into the kitchenette and taking a short, but sharp blade used to cut tender meat. It will be perfect for his hand.

“No!”

Peter stops him before he can bring the knife down to his hand patiently waiting on the counter; his eyes have lost all the sweetness and peace they had before - they are worried now - and Wade curses himself.

“What are you doing?!” Peter exclaims, snatching the knife from his grip, throwing it away and pulling him back to the window.

“It’s another dream. This isn’t real.” Wade explains with candor, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It… it can’t be.”

Peter sighs and holds tightly his hands, saying: “Why do you say that? Of course it can, Wade. It _is_ real.”

The mercenary gulps. He wants to kiss Peter again and lose himself in his scent, touch and sounds more than anything else, but he is _scared_ , so terrified, because if he is imagining this, if he is dreaming again then he couldn’t stand it. He would rather explode other fifty times than dream this perfection and abruptly wake up from it.

But if, on the other hand, this is real, then he is absolutely unprepared. He has convinced himself so much that nobody could ever love him, that _Peter_ could never love him that now, after hearing the young man speak those beautiful words, his mind can’t grasp the concept, the mere idea.

_‘Peter… loves me?’_

He squeezes the hero’s hands; they are warm, dirty with blood, and he frowns. Only now he is noticing how filthy and disheveled Peter looks. He knows he took care of him; he has woken up in the bathtub filled with bloody water and realized immediately that the young man helped him, but he doesn’t remember what happened after the explosion, which is weird.  

He is usually half-aware of when his body is rebuilding itself; he can always feel the healing factor fixing all his injuries and wounds even when his brain is almost destroyed. That’s the first thing his imperfect body fixes anyway, so he always knows what happens around him while he gets better. Even if it’s useful during missions and battles, it’s terribly painful and his crazy mind gets even _crazier_ when the damage is as bad as the one he surely sustained after blowing up.

So a horrible doubt passes through his mind and Wade pales under the scars.

Peter is looking at him with the same soft expression he had before, now sure that he is not going to maim himself. There is that beautiful, gorgeous smile on his lips that Wade adores so much and he feels so bad, but he has to ask this.

“Peter, what happened after the explosion? You brought me here and…” Wade frowns again. Damn, he is slow today. Maybe some of his neurons aren’t back yet. “Where are we, anyway?”

“My apartment.” Peter laughs and Wade bites his lip to force himself to ignore the sound and continue: “Oh! Oh, cool! Okay, I am gonna put that aside for a moment and talk about a more serious matter, because I have to know.” He clears his throat, ready to face whatever truth Peter is going to reveal him. He _needs_ to know this. He can’t bear the thought of having hurt him.

“What happened, Peter? Did I wake up? Did I say something bad?” He pales even more and panics. “Did I touch you and…?”

“No!” Peter takes his head in his hands again and Wade moans, because he longed for his touch for so long and Peter feels so _real_ right now…!

“Wade, you didn’t hurt me.” the young man reassures him. His smile is big, although there is a hint of sadness in it. “You woke up, that’s true, but you didn’t hurt me, I swear. This blood” and he points at his dirty Spider-Man costume “is yours. You bled a lot, your body was in shred.”

“And you put me into the bathtub.” Wade feels like melting. He is melting. He is _definitely_ melting, because nobody ever did that for him, nobody ever took his disgusting body and helped him through the painful recovery after an explosion or another bad event that left him almost destroyed. Hell, he doesn’t even help himself when that happens, causing his brain to get foggier and the voices to become two monsters.

But Peter helped, Peter cared, Peter brought him to _his_ bathroom, once clean and white, put him inside _his_ bathtub, not caring about the gore and all the shit Wade left behind.

“Logan told me hot water was good!” the hero says, frantically looking into his eyes for reassurance. “It… it is not? Did I make it worse?”

“No, I told you, I never felt like this before! It’s not like the previous times, it’s so much better!” Wade can’t stop the laughter that escapes from his throat as he entwines his fingers with Peter. “Damn, Beardy is back? At least he didn’t give you bad advice to pull a prank on me.”

“I would have skinned him alive.” Peter growls and Wade blushes and gawks at him, a spark of arousal flowing through him. The young man laughs and wraps his arms around the merc’s waist; when he speaks, his hot breath skims across Wade’s scarred face.

“Now that we settled this, let’s go back to the important topic.” he places his lips on the corner of Wade’s mouth and the scarred man’s breath hitches in his chest. “This is real, Wade.”

It was easy putting that aside for a moment while they discussed about what happened after the explosion. Now that they talked about it, Wade has to face another, more important truth.

So he stares at Peter with feverish eyes. He isn’t smiling sweetly and too calmly like in the dream; there is nothing eerie about him this time, he is dirty, smells like sweat and copper, his face is tired, his eyes are bloodshot and there is the hint of some bad, dark circles under them. His gaze is stern, but gentle, his hands feels so good against Wade’s sensitive, still fresh skin, but also warm and sloppy due to the blood that covers them.

This hug is _perfect_ because there are so many imperfect, little details and Wade finally knows that it’s real, that he is awake and that Peter really said those words.

His realization is plainly visible on his marred face and Peter smiles, bright like the sun, playful, relaxed, at ease like Wade has never seen him before. Something heavy and dark that lived in his body for too long finally breaks and he starts breathing and think better, starts _living_. It’s intoxicating, it’s like he has regained something that life robbed him of, a right he has never possessed, the right to be happy. It sounds cliché, stupid, cheesy, but it’s _beautiful_ , it’s _good_. He rests his head against Peter’s shoulder and cries.

Peter strokes his neck, careful not to scratch the delicate skin, and murmurs, gentle, sincere, happy as him: “I love you, Wade.”

Wade chokes on a sob into his suit and then slowly rises his head.

“Can… Can I kiss you?” he asks shyly and Peter’s smile becomes softer - if that is even possible, because it’s already the gentlest thing in the universe - and leans in. Wade presses their lips together, moans, caresses his back while Peter clings to him and gasps into the kiss, opening his mouth to let his tongue in. Wade tastes him until his head is spinning and pulls away, eliciting a whimper from the young, flushed man.

Wade’s lower parts are tingling - and not in the funny, Spider-Man way. Peter starts peppering his face with kisses until the merc is laughing with him; their bodies are rubbing against each other and Wade wants to grind, press himself against Peter until they are a single person. His manhood is getting hard and he accidentally pushes it on Peter’s thigh, who gasps and looks down with wide eyes and glistening lips.

Wade remembers he is naked, the towel miraculously still wrapped around him, but doing nothing to hide his body. He steps back, even though he mentally screams when he can’t feel Peter in his arms anymore, and babbles: “S-Sorry! I… I… huh…”

He tries to hide his disfigurement for the second time, but Peter is faster and throws the towel on the floor, pulls him back and kisses him with hunger. Wade whimpers happily, runs his hands through his brown locks and sucks his lips, making him laugh breathily.

Peter’s hands are going down now, to stroke his erection and explore his body; Wade hums when the long fingers arrive to his groin, smiles wickedly when he gropes Peter’s ass and makes him yelp, chuckles while licking his long neck, but lets out a hiss when a soft digit brushes against a particularly delicate spot.

“Sorry!” Peter quickly removes his hands to put them on his face, searching with panic on it for any hint of pain. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“Don’t worry, baby boy.” Wade mumbles, kissing his jaw. “It was nothing, really. It’s just tender flesh, it’s normal after a recovery like that.”

Peter hesitates, observes his scars, the conditions of his body - and Wade tries hard not to blush -, then says with a smile: “Let’s wait for a while.”

The merc raises his head, widening his eyes.

“What?!” and he should be embarrassed of the high-pitched voice that came out of his mouth, but the idea of stopping fills him with horror.

“Your body is still hurting.” Peter explains, laughing when Wade’s eyes become large as two golf balls. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable when…” he clears his throat, adorably awkward and shy; he blushes and looks at the merc with both a playful and timid expression, a smile tugging at his lips. “… when we will do it.”

Wade inhales, trying not to imagine Peter moaning and panting under him. He is already hard enough.

He wants to insist though, say that he is absolutely fine and that he has done worse things while healing. But then he sees again the way Peter’s shoulders are slumped, the tiredness in his eyes, the dirty costume glued to his skin. He is not the only one who needs rest, Peter does as well. Maybe even more than him.

So he smiles, strokes Peter’s cheek with a thumb and says: “Okay.” It’s a simple word that carries all his love and care, that shows Peter how much he wants him to be comfortable too. The young man understands and kisses him, then wipes away the last dampness that was still lingering on Wade’s scarred face.

“Did you hear, dick?” Wade exclaims talking to his hard-on. “It’s not time to shine yet! Sit down!”

Peter laughs heartily and picks up the towel, wrapping it around Wade’s waist.

“No need to tie it, Petey, Wadey Junior is gonna keep it up.” Wade jokes and they laugh together, similarly to when they swung together across New York before meeting the children, but it’s also warmer, they are really _together_ and Wade almost expects to hear _Can you feel the love tonight_ playing the room; and when Peter whispers in his ear “It doesn’t seem so _junior_ to me”, Wade swears he is going to melt their lips together and bite that sweet butt until the end of the world.

Then another thought occurs to him, giving life back to doubts and fears, and he grasps Peter’s hands, babbling, speaking wavering words, scared to annoy or scare the young man.

“Peter…! What… what are we?”

Peter raises his eyebrows, blinks and shows no sign of comprehension. Wade’s first impulse is to joke.

“I don’t mean ‘Are we human or are dancer’ like The Killers, I know it seems strange, but I am human and you are human too - the bite doesn’t count, right? - and I can dance decently - I shake my butt like nobody else! -, but I don’t consider myself that good of a dancer, so…” He takes in a deep breath, his still weak body complaining about the lack of air and the strained lungs. “I… I mean… _us_. What are we?”

During his whole monologue, Peter has looked at him with fondness and patience, never trying to interrupt, and Wade feels another pleasant stab of love inside his heart, because people usually cut him off and tell him to shut up. Peter listens until the end and then puts a hand on his cheek and whispers: “What do you want us to be?”

“Husbands.”

Peter’s eyebrows are so up they are going to fall off his face, his mouth hangs open, and Wade gawks at him for a second time, but this time it’s because he can’t believe his own words.

_‘Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Did I say that out loud?’_

“I-I mean…!” he exclaims, his grip around the hero’s hands strong and probably a bit painful. He glances at the kitchen counter and the idea of cutting his own head looks so, so appealing right now…

But he doesn’t want to splatter blood around Peter’s house again, so jumping out of the window looks like a better way to die - even for a short time - and escape from this terrible embarrassment and poor Peter’s shock.

_‘I scared him for life. He told me only ten minutes ago that he loves me and I already creeped him out with a fucking weird proposal!’_

“I-I’m sorry, I…” he stammers, eyes darting around, focusing on everything but Peter. “I didn’t mean that! Not that I wouldn’t like to be your husband…!”

_‘God, SHUT UP!’_

He claps a hand on his mouth, stopping himself before things get worse. Where are the voices when he needs them?!

Peter stares at him and Wade stares back, waiting for his bad, embarrassed reaction. But a blush spreads over the young man’s cheeks and he snorts, resting his head on the merc’s shoulder.

“… Are you freaked out?” is Wade’s muffled question and Peter snorts again, shakes his head and answers: “No, you doofus.”

He slightly pulls away to look at him and gently removes Wade’s hand from his mouth, squeezing it.

“Maybe we should proceed step by step.” he is still smiling and Wade is relieved to see that he hasn’t ruined anything for once. Peter pecks his lips and whispers, with the same playful, roguish, and timid expression he had before: “We could start as boyfriends. What do you say?”

Boyfriends. Peter Parker is his boyfriend now.

Wade nods, a goofy smile lightening his face like a Christmas tree, and beams at Peter, who laughs again - Wade hopes he will never stop, because he adores his carefree, happy laughter - and takes him to the kitchen.

“Eat while I clean the bathroom and take a shower.” For a moment Peter looks anxious again and asks with uncertainty: “You won’t try to hurt yourself again, will you…?”

The merc shakes his head, promises with a kiss, and Peter goes to the bathroom with a relieved sigh. When Wade notices all the food on the counter and the pancakes still cooking on the stove, his stomach growls, reminding him that his weak body needs nourishment after the big job done by the healing factor.

The flame under the pancakes isn’t too strong, so they aren’t burnt yet - even though the last ones are stuck to the frying pan. He takes care of them first, preparing a plate for Peter too, who he can hear emptying the bathtub and scrub it.

He is starving, but they are boyfriends now and boyfriends are supposed to help each other, everyone knows that! Wade places the pancakes on the plates, putting more on Peter’s, then tidies up the counter to get more space for them to eat together, to sit next to each other (he giggles at the thought), and steps into the bathroom.

Peter is washing the inside of the tub with a shower hose and another clean towel, kneeled on the floor; he doesn’t hear Wade entering and keeps pouring fresh water with a relaxed expression and a smile. It’s the first time Wade sees him like this, so at peace, and he can’t help but feeling the same.

_Boyfriends. He is Peter Parker’s boyfriend._

“Hey.” he calls and Peter quickly turns around, his smile broadening.

“Eaten already?” he asks incredulously and Wade shakes his head.

“The pancakes are ready, but I wanted to wait for you. Do you need help, sweetums?”

“Go eat! Don’t think about me, I will be done soon.”

Wade pouts and whines, already missing Peter’s touch. “I want to eat with you!”

“You can keep me company later.” the young man answers and when Wade whimpers again, he sticks out his tongue. “Go! And leave some cereals for me, please!”

Wade does as he is told and puts a lot of effort into eating in a decent manner, without spilling milk, the cereals and the syrup he found in a corner of the fridge. He even sits at the counter, without wandering around the house while eating, and talks with Peter, until he steps into the shower and the loud stream of water interrupts their conversation.

When he is done eating, he puts the dish and bowl into the sink and only then starts walking in the room to observe it. There are many photos, especially on the walls and bookshelves, as well as many books, thick and big, which he has never read or heard about. They look like scientific and pretty difficult volumes and novels; there are also some horror and sci-fi books and Wade grins, because he knows those and is happy to see that Peter read them too.

The photos are not very different from each other; there are always an old couple and a young Peter portrayed in them. Peter mentioned his Aunt in the past days, so Wade guesses immediately who the old woman is. The man at her side must be her husband, but Peter never talked about him.

Seeing Peter so little and young makes Wade feel all fuzzy inside. He was skinny, not very tall, and his eyes were framed by a pair of enormous glasses, too serious and ugly for a pretty child like him. In one of the pictures, he is in a park, surrounded by flowers, with bugs in his hands, while his relatives are sitting on a picnic cloth. In another one, he is older and proudly showing the first prize he won in a science fair.

“Oh God.” Wade giggles. “He is an adorable nerd!”

He looks around some more, studying with critical eye Peter’s apartment. The one Wade currently has may not be the best thing in the world, but he needed it only for a few days, to complete the work, and didn’t give it much importance. He stayed in better places, though, used his money to rent cool, wealthy apartment to fill at least that part of his corrupted heart that longed for comfort and a better life, better than his shitty childhood.

But Peter’s apartment is a completely different story. It’s his house, the place he must live in, because it’s clear he isn’t paid much and can’t move. His life must be pretty frugal and poor; when Wade opened the fridge to look for the syrup, he found it almost empty and the same room he is staying now contains only the necessary furniture. There are humidity stains on the walls and ceiling, the TV is an old model whose corner has been fixed with some scotch-tape, the windows shake every time a gust of wind passes by.

Wade walks over to one of said windows; the sky is getting pink, some birds have started singing somewhere and there is already a good number of cars in the roads below. Peter is staying pretty high and Wade squints to recognize the borough. Queens?

“Damn…” he mutters, feeling sorry for Peter. Not only his superhero life is hard and dangerous as hell, but his civilian one is pretty rough too. How does he pay the bills? Does he have to help his Aunt and Uncle too?

He can still hear the water coming from the bathroom - _don’t think about Peter and his naked body, don’t think about Peter and his naked body -_ and quietly explores the rest of the little apartment. Not that there is that much to explore; only a small room where brooms and detergents are kept and the bedroom… which is in awful conditions.

Wade is used to blood, of course, and it didn’t bother him when his own bedroom was in this same state. But knowing that he splattered blood all around Peter’s bedroom, taunted the sheets beyond repair, makes him feel like a fucking disgrace. He eyes a duffel bag next to the bed and peeks into it.

“Eww. Guess he used this to bring me here.”

He looks back at the bed with a saddened face. Peter laid him down on there and took care of him, when his body was still in a horrible state. He wonders what he did exactly. Did he help the healing factor somehow? Put his limbs back together? Held his hand?

All the good feelings and love he feels for Peter are going to make him implode. He has never felt like this before, it’s all so powerful, gorgeous, he feels at peace, content, and he remembers for the umpteenth time that, _yes_ , they are together now. Dating. Boyfriends. Lovers.

He giggles again, basking in that beautiful feeling that nobody can steal from him; not even the voices, which are finally seem to be gone, not even the doubts and fears, that Peter always pushes away with his smile and touch, not even the world that loves shitting on them so much, because Wade will fight tooth and nail to protect Peter and this warm thing between them.

 _‘I will protect our love.’_ he thinks and if the voices were there, they would probably laugh at the cheesiness of it, but they are not and Wade doesn’t care about their judgment nor nobody else’s. Even if he is an expert in murder, even if he is a mercenary who has been killing people for years, a man whose past haunts him and made him do bad things, he has something to protect and cherish now, someone to make happy. And he will make sure to do it the best way possible.

He starts by cleaning the bedroom. It’s a silly, simple act, but he knows Peter is exhausted and they will have to sleep somewhere. He caused this mess and wants to thank Peter for what he has done for him.

He takes a mop from the little closet in the hallway, fills a bucket with water from the kitchen and goes back to the bedroom to scrub the floor. Thankfully there are not bloodstains on the wall like in his apartment and it’s relatively easy to clean the footprints and coagulated pools splattered all around.

When the floor is cleaned and the water in the bucket red and dense, Wade puts everything in a corner; he would like to go to the bathroom to pour the dirty water into the toilet, but Peter is still there taking a shower and he doesn’t want to startle or embarrass him… even if they were going to make love just a few minutes ago. Still, he wants to do this right, so he forgets about the bucket for a while and focuses on the sheets and pillows.

He puts them into the bag, zips it closes and places it in the corner together with the mop and bucket, wondering where he can burn it. Because it absolutely needs to be burnt, it’s _unhygienic_ and he won’t let that thing stay into Peter’s house any longer!

He brings it in the hallway, where the main entrance door is, until he can find a way to get rid of it, then goes back to the bedroom.

Just then, he hears the water stop in the distance and Peter slide open the door of the shower cabin; he patiently waits with a bright grin and when Peter looks for him around the house and finally steps into the bedroom, his surprised gasp is worth the wait.

“Ta-dah!”

Peter observes the room with big eyes, then they move to Wade and he smiles and sighs fondly.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Of course I should have!” the merc approaches him, but doesn’t touch him, because Peter has a towel wrapped around his waist just like him and is pretty much naked and still humid. “That’s… that’s what boyfriends do, right? Help each other…?”

His voice is low, his tone unsure, he needs to be reassured and hear that they are really together; Peter understands and places a soft kiss on his chapped lips, answering, his smile never faltering: “Yes, Wade. That’s what boyfriends do.” he strokes his cheek, careful not to brush over the more swollen scars, and adds: “Thank you.”

Wade fidgets and tortures his hands until he can’t keep them off the young man anymore; he places them on his slim waist and clears his throat.

“We should sleep a bit. _You_ should, you have to go to work soon, right?”

“I am going to call sick. I think my brain is going to shut down, like hell I am going to spend the entire day at The Daily Bugle!” Peter replies with a laugh, kissing him once again before concluding with sweet eyes: “I want to spend it with you.” Then he gently steps away to reach the closet. He seems embarrassed and sorry as he opens it and examines the few, simple clothes he owns.

“I don’t have jammies or shirts of your size. Maybe I could strain the elastic of these boxers…?” he furrows his brows, the more he looks into his wardrobe, the more he grows worried. “I don’t think these will fit… maybe these…? No…”

“Peter.” Wade chuckles, standing next to him and stopping him before he throws the entire collection of clothes out of the closet. “It’s okay. I will sleep with the towel.”

The hero smirks and that sight alone is enough to make Wade slightly aroused.

But Peter’s answer is what almost causes him to get another erection.

“It will be easier to _play_ after waking up then.”

Peter laughs seeing his surprise and swiftly removes his towel, discarding it on the ground to pick up a pair of boxers from the pile in the closet. When he bends, Wade licks his lips and Peter isn’t looking at the clothes, but at him, directly in his eyes, the smirk still on his beautiful face.

“You are doing it on purpose, you pervert spider.” Wade growls, his voice hoarse and almost guttural. Now it’s Peter the one who licks his lips.

He puts on the boxers - making Wade whimpers - and as he passes next to the merc to go call The Daily Bugle, he whispers in his ear: “There are some clean sheets and pillows in the top drawer.” His hot breath tickles Wade’s scarred skin and he hums when Peter adds: “Sprawl yourself on the bed as much as you want.”

Wade can’t help himself from swatting Peter’s butt as he passes by, making him yelp and laugh, then starts preparing the bed. The sheets and pillows smell clean, they are crisp and smooth, and the merc cautiously lies back and fully relaxes once his skin accepts the new, comfortable place.

It still burns and itches, but it’s nothing compared to what he has suffered in the past. He can feel himself being a little bit feverish, but a good rest will take care of it.

And then he will make sure to make Peter feel super good too.

He hears him talking with a fake, croaky voice in the living room and giggles when he even fakes a bad fit of coughs and sniffles. Then the call ends and Peter finally comes back with his pancakes and bowl of cereals; he winks at him and sits on the bed, eating fast and complimenting the taste of the round, soft pancakes.

Wade’s chest swells with pride and he beams at the hero as he finishes eating with a series of little moans and sounds that show all his appreciation.

“Damn, they are so good!”

“I will teach you how to make them later, baby boy.”

Peter smiles, puts the empty dish and bowl on the nightstand, and finally joins him in bed, pulling the sheets over them both.

Wade stiffens a bit when he presses his forehead against his shoulder, but the hand on his chest - gently brushing the protruding bumps - calms him down. It’s different from the way they have slept hours ago, before the explosion. It’s intimate, relaxed, there are no fear and unsettlement anymore. So Wade smiles back at Peter, turns to hug him and pulls him closer, nuzzling his face into his soft, damp hair. Peter’s hand stays on his chest and his long legs touch his, a foot playing with his ankle.

“Is this okay?” Wade asks, suddenly self-aware - more than usual - of his body. Peter’s fingertips skims over two deep scars above his collarbone and he replies, softly, almost in a whisper: “Of course it is.”

Wade then presses the hand on his back further into his smooth skin and closes his eyes, breathing in the sweet aroma of shampoo, heart beating a little bit faster. It almost _stops_ beating when Peter murmurs: “I am sorry, Wade.”

Why is he sorry? Did something happen in the short minutes they were away from each other? Did he change his mind? Did he realize he doesn’t love him for real?

 _‘Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Think positive.’_ but Wade has never be good in the ‘don’t-panic-it’s-gonna-be-fine’ thing. He faces despair with a smile and a laid-back attitude, while always dying inside and this is the case too.

“For what?” he croaks out, now not sure if he is allowed to touch Peter like this and being in bed with him. But when Peter raises his head to look at him and strokes his lips with a thumb, he sees the love in his eyes and gradually starts breathing again.

“I… I haven’t always treated you nicely over the years.” the young man explains and there is _fear_ in his eyes, as if he is scared of Wade’s rejection and rage. “At first I didn’t want to know you better, I… I thought you were just a killer, and I didn’t want to have anything to do with you. But then we talked, we teamed-up and I started to realize that you were in pain - and I’m not talking about the cancer, not only that! - and then…” Peter catches his breath, stares into Wade’s eyes and concludes, his voice trembling: “And then I started knowing you better and everything changed. I… I _understood_ and I’m so sorry for not having done it before, Wade.”

Wade snorts and the sound seems to startle Peter. He brushes his hair and pinches his cheek, thinking about the irony of this. He should be the one saying he is sorry for causing so many problems, for annoying him in the past, for complicating everything. He tells Peter so and the hero pales, shakes his head and exclaims: “No, no! Don’t say that! I am sorry, I should have given you a chance so long ago and…”

Wade thinks that he would have joked, teased Peter before; but now, after what happened between them, he feels different, so he just moves his hand to his _boyfriend_ ’s face and chuckles: “Silly web-head.”

Peter hides his face in his neck, kisses the softer expanses of skin there and whispers: “I am glad we have known each other better.”

The merc hums in agreement, still smiling, and closes his eyes, scarred face once again nuzzling brown locks.

Before falling asleep, he distinctly hears Peter say “I love you” and his smile broadens.

  
  
\- - -

  
  
It’s past lunch time when Peter wakes up and groggily cuddles further into Wade. They haven’t moved much during their sleep, they are still embracing each other, but the scarred man’s face is pressed against his, now, not in his hair. Peter observes it and the lines, scabs and bumps on it; they seem less swollen and sore, so it’s with tranquility that he kisses them until Wade opens his eyes and looks at him. He doesn’t look feverish anymore and Peter makes sure by pressing his mouth on his forehead. It’s hot, more than it should be, but he assumes it’s normal in Wade’s case. He has always been very warm, probably due to the healing factor and cancer fighting each other incessantly inside him.

“Are you okay?” he asks and Wade mumbles happily: “Yes. And you?”

“Better than ever.”

He feels Wade melt under his touch and smiles, inserting a knee between his legs, now not covered anymore by the towel, which fell somewhere during the sleep.

The merc gasps and Peter, now that exhaustion is gone from his body, feels only excitement and a great desire to play, to laugh together, to _stay_ together and discover each other. So it’s with a big grin that he slips off his boxers and throws them to the other side of the room, his eyes never leaving Wade.

The other man growls and immediately puts a hand on his bare ass, squishing and pinching it; Peter laughs and roams his fingers across the rough chest, then lower, until he reaches the zone where Wade’s happy trail should be.

“It was weird waking up naked next to you and realize we haven’t done it yet.” the merc mumbles between kisses on the smooth skin of Peter’s neck; the young man giggles and replies, his other hand massaging Wade’s shoulder: “We are going to fix that soon.”

Wade pushes him on his back with another growl and kisses the life out of him, sucking his lips and tongue, moaning into his mouth and never ceasing to caress every part of his body; Peter bites gently a chapped lip and spreads his legs to give him better access. They are becoming hard and aroused and they will need lube soon, but for now they simply kiss and learn about each other’s tics, preferences, details.

Peter already knows how Wade’s skin feels, he touched it a lot in the bathtub, but now that he is not wet anymore and healed, he notices how dry, almost papery, it is. The redder parts are of course more delicate and sensitive and Peter decides to touch them not with his hands, but with his lips, brushing them over the most sore scars and opening his mouth to suck tenderly on the rough skin.

Wade is whimpering and panting in his neck, grinding against him, and Peter moans when their erections touch. The merc’s hands are still on his hipbones and waist, but now they are slowly going lower to finally grasp his manhood. When they do, Peter gasps and turns Wade over with a playful sound.

“Hi.” he smiles and Wade, flushed and sweaty as him, laughs breathlessly.

“Hi.” and his voice is hoarser, rumbling through his chest and throat, and Peter bites his lips when his arousal grows and sends shivers all through his body.

He leans down to pepper kisses all over Wade’s stomach as he plays with his hair and then he finally arrives at his destination.

It’s scarred, just like he imagined, and big, thick. It’s definitely _bigger_ than his and Peter gulps nervously, wondering if it’s going to hurt when it will enter him, if he will be able to make Wade feel good or if he will ruin everything instead.

Wade mistakes his worry for disgust and sheepishly says: “Petey, come back here. You don’t have to-”

“Hush, you doofus.” Peter smirks and shows him how much he wants it with his tongue. Wade gasps and lets out a loud whine as he sits up to look down at him, at the way his mouth and tongue move around his erection, to hear better his moans.

Peter closes his eyes for a moment, focusing on the strong, unfamiliar taste. It’s not unpleasant, just different, a little bitter with a faint sweetness in the background and the uneven texture turns him on even more. It’s good, he likes it, and he trusts his head up and down faster, sucking the leaking tip, hoping not to do anything wrong with his inexperience. But judging from the sounds Wade is making and the way he moans his name, he can tell he is doing a good job.

“Peter…! Peter…!”

Wade sounds like he did when he saw him jacking off in the bathroom, but there is a different undertone in his voice now. He sounds _ecstatic_ , not desperate and lonely, and Peter reopens his eyes and looks at him hoping to express his joy through them. Wade understands because he smiles at him, brushes his sweaty hair and whimpers: “Stop, Petey, or I am gonna come now…!”

Peter pulls away with a loud pop and licks his lips, smirking again as Wade pants and reaches for him. They fall back on the bed together and their kisses are sloppier, more urgent than before and they talk to each other, words of endearment and love, reassurances and even silly, whispered jokes. When Wade asks him if he can shoot webs out of his dick, Peter bursts out laughing and the merc joins him, the booming, warm sound filling his heart with peace.

“The lube is under the mattress.” he pants as Wade’s palm rubs over the head of his erection; the merc reaches down, digs a little and then shows him the successfully retrieved bottle, which he uncaps with a flick of his thumb.

“On your back, Petey.” and Peter obliges, feeling nervous again. He spreads his legs for a second time and looks up at Wade expectantly, starting to babble: “Do… Do I have to do something in particular? Hold my breath? Don’t move? Can… Can I hold on you? Tell me if I do something wrong, I-I…”

“Peter, calm down.” Wade chuckles, leaning down to peck his lips. “You just have to relax.” He frowns and almost pouts. “… Of course you can hold me, you web-head.”

Peter giggles, nods, breathes deeply and smiles to let him know he can proceed. Reassured, Wade finishes coating his fingers with lube, lays on him and strokes his cheek with the clean hand.

“Ready?” he whispers and Peter looks at him with love, because Wade is pretty nervous as well and is doing a bad job at hiding it, but nods again and never moves his eyes from his.

When the first digit slips through his hole, he winces and does his best not to stiffen. Wade studies his face, stopping for a while when the discomfort becomes more evident, then resumes the movement when the young man tells him he’s fine.

It’s not painful, it just burns a little and the sensation is new and strange to Peter, but he was right. Wade is _gentle_ , caring, and he doesn’t hurry, giving him time to adjust.

They start talking again; it’s not just sex, it’s their _union_ and they are doing it together, through laughs and gasped giggles. Then another digit is inserted and Peter arches, moaning when the rough, scarred finger brushes over a delicate spot, sending sparks of pleasure all over his body and brain.

“Found it!” Wade sings and Peter swats his back, nips his earlobe and says: “You would be an amazing treasure hunter.”

“I know right?”

Wade keeps pushing the two fingers until Peter is a moaning mess, but he gets even worse when the merc removes them.

“Oh God…!” the young man stares at the scarred erection Wade is slicking with lube and suddenly sits up, grabbing his wrist. “Wait, let… let me do it.”

He gently coats the manhood with more lube, aware of the intensity of Wade’s gaze; when he lifts his eyes, smiling, the merc is still staring at him intently.

“Is this okay?”

Wade smirks and taps his nose. “Of course it’s okay, web-head. Your hands are _magical_. It feels like my dick is on fire, but in the good way!”

Peter blushes and squeezes a little bit harder, making him yelp in surprise and pleasure.

“Oh, I see how it is!”

The older man pushes him back on the bed and repositions himself between his legs once again, but this time their bodies are aligned and Peter gasps; the blunt pressure against is entrance is bigger and stronger than the one provided by Wade’s fingers, which were pretty big per se.

Anxiety appears on the scarred face a second time and Wade gulps: “Tell me if you want to stop. If it hurts, if you change your mind, if… if I look weird and you are creeped out and want to go vomit in the toilet…”

“Wade.”

Peter puts a hand on his cheek and strokes it with a thumb, saying softly: “Don’t worry.” He smiles and tugs at his shoulder to bring him down and brush his lips over his. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Wade whispers back and then slips into him with a determined, swift trust. Peter gasps - it’s really _big!_ \- and tries to focus on all the sensations running through him. The extra texture added by the scars is already driving him crazy with pleasure and Wade is so gentle even when inside him. At first the pace is slow, lazy, and they kiss each other without haste, enjoying every moment and feeling.

Then Peter begs him to go faster and Wade is happy to do so; he doesn’t stop talking and Peter is grateful for it, because he loves his voice, loves the way he wants to reassure and calm him, loves the love every word contains. He tries to do the same, despite the overwhelming pleasure boiling inside his groin, fogging his mind.

Wade fills him completely, his hands are everywhere; Peter has enough strength to grasp his hand and entwine their fingers together, staring up at him, his mouth hanging open, eyes half-closed, whole face glistening with sweat.

“You are so loud.” Wade giggles. He is looking down at him too and there are awe and love in his eyes, so clear and vivid Peter feels like crying, not with guilt like it happened in the previous days, but because he feels love too, love and happiness.

“Silly.” he laughs through pants and is about to say more when a particular deep thrust hits his prostate and makes him cry out.

“ _Wade!_ ”

The scarred man is moaning too, almost louder than him, and hides his face into his neck; he grunts with every thrust, says that it’s beautiful, that it feels gorgeous, that _Peter_ is gorgeous and Peter tells him, holding him close, so much he believes they are already a single entity: “ _You_ are gorgeous.”

And then Wade sobs and cries, but Peter knows he is not sad, only happy just like he is, so he wraps his arms tighter around him and takes every pound, every thrust, tightens around his manhood as well and gives him centuplicated pleasure.

His own erection is amazingly trapped between their bodies, both the friction there and inside him drives him to the edge and when Wade moves his head to finally kiss him, Peter screams his name and comes, squirting warm sperm all over his belly.

“K-Keep going!” he whines and Wade doesn’t let him repeat it twice; he is on the verge of the climax, grunting and gasping, his guttural noises so hot Peter almost feels aroused again.

“Peter…!”

“I got you, Wade.” he keeps clinging to him and kisses his cheek. “I am here.”

“ _Peter!_ ” Wade sobs and finally comes inside him with a silent shout. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, then realizes the young man may feel uncomfortable now and pulls out, just before his arms threaten to give up. He flops next to Peter and the young man quickly cuddles to his side, arms already wrapped around him because he already misses his touch.

“How… how are you feeling?” the scarred man pants and Peter’s answer is a long, deep kiss. He wipes away the tears still lingering in Wade’s eyes with a hand and smiles.

“I am well. You?”

And Wade chuckles, presses their foreheads together and says:

“Better than ever.”

He looks almost hopeful and opens his mouth to say something, but changes his mind and sheepishly keeps staring at Peter. The young man understands and holds him closer, not caring about their sticky bodies. His smile grows as he says: “I love you.”

Wade is immediately relieved, blushes under the scars - despite his already flushed state - and kisses him softly.

“I love you too.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait and any typo, this chapter ended up being pretty long. One of the scenes in this comes from [this picture](http://lextkh.tumblr.com/post/90805057033/cel-shading-was-rough-since-i-lack-patience) by [lextkh](http://lextkh.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I always promise things in my chapters, but then they change as I write them :I That's why I don't know clearly how many parts are left, but I will put everything into them. I hope you will enjoy this one!

They stay in bed for the whole day.

They talk about this and that, laugh at the videos and vines on Peter’s laptop, make out and simply relax, not even bothering to put on some clothes - or the towel, in Wade’s case.

When the sun sets and it’s almost dinner time, their stomachs grumble and remind them they didn’t eat anything at lunch.

Peter, flustered and tremendously embarrassed, closes the fridge and reopens it hoping it will be magically filled with food, but there is really nothing in there that could be used to prepare something for two hungry, adult men.

“I will go buy groceries!” he exclaims, feeling like a disgrace because he can’t even feed his boyfriend after a so draining recovery.

Wade follows him around the house as he prepares to go out, staring at him with panic like a lost puppy, and Peter notices when he turns around and bumps into him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks with a smile, kissing the scarred lips, but he hasn’t expected Wade’s whispered answer.

“Don’t leave me alone.”

Peter’s smile disappears and he melts. Wade’s arms are wrapped around his muscular body in a defensive stance, as if he is trying to protect himself, and his eyes never moves from his. The young man slowly pulls him closer and Wade understands, dropping his arms to receive the warm hug.

Peter whispers back: “I will never leave you alone.”

“Can… Can I come?”

Peter pulls away to look at him and reminds him he has no clothes of the right size for him, but Wade is faster and explains: “You could bring me to my apartment, so I can take my stuff. Only a shirt and a pair of jeans, don’t worry, I won’t move here if you don’t want to!” He gulps, lowering his eyes, and his voice becomes even more difficult to hear. “Can I stay here just for tonight, though? Just for tonight… the voices… I don’t want the voices to come back and tell me all of this never happened.”

Peter cups his cheek and makes him look back at him, so he can see his smile.

“Of course you can stay. You can move here if you want.” Wade’s eyes are big for the surprise now and Peter laughs, pulling him down for a kiss a second time. “Come on, let’s go to your old apartment.”

While Peter puts on the Spider-Man costume, Wade sits on the bed, a huge grin plastered over his scarred face and if he was a lost puppy before, now he is the happiest man alive. He starts talking about everything that comes to his mind, showing how excited and joyous he is, and Peter has to wrap tighter the towel around his waist because he is too busy speaking to do it himself. He wants to give him one his jackets to keep him warm during the trip, but they are way too small and Wade’s skin would suffer and hurt even more, especially in its current, delicate conditions.

“You will keep me warm.” the merc winks, stroking his fingers down Peter’s spine in a seductive manner.

“Hop on, you doofus.” the young man laughs as they move to the window. “And don’t grind too much or the towel will fall off and people will wonder why Spider-Man is carrying a naked man on his back.”

Wade is on him in a millisecond and whispers in his ear, making him smirk: “I bet you would like feeling me pressed against your back all bare and naked, Petey.”

“I prefer you all bare and naked pressed against my chest and something else too, to be honest.” is the smug answer and not even Wade knows how to reply to that.

He just growls, bites Peter’s ear and they are out, laughing and swinging in the dark areas of the city, far from the well-lit roads and streams of people.

Wade’s old apartment isn’t far, fortunately, and nobody sees them; they talk and jokes, even playing in the air; the towel falls off during a complicated trick and Wade keeps repeating that he is sorry and didn’t mean to do it until Peter turns his head, kisses his cheek and tells him to calm down.

They land into the now familiar bedroom and Wade jumps down - not before kissing Peter’s temple - and walks straight to the bag he was taking away when they first met here; he opens it while Peter takes off his mask, sits on the bed to admire the scarred back and rear hit by the moonlight, the strong muscles which shift when Wade bends to examine some boxers, the strong legs and arms.

The scarred man senses he is being watched and looks back, snorting to hide his shyness.

“Stop looking at me, web-head!”

“Why should I?” Peter replies with a sensual smile and Wade blushes, fights his own smile and turns quickly his head to hide it.

Then he starts taking out all kind of weapons, guns and even a pile of money and Peter raises his eyebrows.

“Wade…?”

“I don’t need these.” the other man explains, still smiling. “I will just bring my costume, my clothes and… this!”

He picks up a lolita dress, not very different from the one he wore so long ago, during one of their team ups. Peter blushes; when he first saw Wade dressed like that, he was just surprised and a bit annoyed by his lack of care for the mission, but now… now just thinking about that big, buff body inside that tight dress makes him feel a wonderful heat in his groin.

Wade notices his arousal and smiles, walking over to him, still naked, the dress in his hand. Peter smiles back and pulls him down, smashing their lips together until they are breathless.

The merc’s skin is a bit cold and Peter hopes it won’t make his pain worse; he wraps his limbs around the muscular body and slowly moves, hoping to give him warmth. Wade hums through their kiss and brings a hand down to caress Peter’s thigh.

“I love you.” Peter murmurs, pressing kisses on the merc’s neck and jawline; when Wade pulls away and looks at him, he smiles, expecting the same words, but his expression becomes dumbstruck when Wade babbles: “I jacked off in the bathroom thinking about you.”

Peter’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, then he closes it and watches Wade whine and hide his face on his chest, talking fast like a broken machine: “I wanted to tell you sooner but now that we are here I absolutely had to tell you because trust is important and I couldn’t keep that inside, I am so sorry Peter so sorry so sorry so sorry, I know it’s disgusting but I didn’t touch you I swear…!”

Peter sighs fondly, shaking his head. Of course he didn’t brought up the matter before, not wanting to mortify Wade, but now that he himself decided to talk about it, he will tell him the truth and convince him that he is not angry nor disgusted.

“I know, Wade. I saw you.”

Wade rises his head so fast that he strains the joints of his neck and shoulders; he looks shocked and his mouth is a thin, straight line ready to scream.

Then he scrambles to his feet and reaches out for a gun on the floor, ready to escape from embarrassment once again.

“Wade!”

Peter grabs his wrist before he can hurt himself and pulls him back on the bed, in the same position they were before; there are tears in the merc’s bright eyes and the young man wipes them off with his thumbs.

He smiles gently and presses their foreheads together and whispers: “Wade, I saw you and I was not disgusted! I was very _hard!_ ” His tone become sultry, playful, but also kind, so Wade won’t feel ashamed. “What were you imagining?”

Wade finally looks at him, hesitates, opens his mouth two or three times and finally answers, his voice barely a whisper, timid and bashful: “Your mouth on my dick.”

Peter giggles and one of his hands goes down, to stroke the merc’s still half-hard manhood; Wade hisses with pleasure and presses his cheek against his, turning slightly his head to kiss it.

“You did it this morning, though.” he murmurs, still sheepish. “You don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to, Peter.”

Peter frowns, not angry nor annoyed, but simply sure about this and determined to show Wade that he loves giving him pleasure. The scars on his manhood only make it hotter.

“Wade.” he says resolutely, pushing his boyfriend - _boyfriend, they are boyfriends now!_ \- on the bed and spreading his legs. “Of course I want to do it.”

Wade grins at him, wiggling his butt - and balls - a bit.

“I want to return the favor later.”

Peter grins back, licks his lips and bends down, placing a soft kiss on the humid head. Wade’s moan sends a hot, pleasant shiver down his spine and groin and he takes a little bit more of erection into his mouth, groaning at the strong taste. When he starts moving his head, Wade’s hands rushes to his hair and gently tugs at it.

“Peter…” he sighs blissfully; the young man rises his eyes to see Wade’s close, his head reclined back, mouth open with a smile. Then Wade feels his gaze and looks at him with tenderness and love - and even gratefulness - and Peter moves up and down along his erection faster, playing with the tip using his tongue.

Wade starts moaning loud, trying hard not to thrust into his mouth. When Peter’s fingers stroke his balls and go lower to touch his entrance, he gasps, sits up and bucks his hips, not too strongly to avoid hurting him.

It’s the second time the hero is doing this and he has already learned all the tricks that make Wade go crazy with pleasure. The scarred man talks when he uses his tongue, gasps and stays almost silent - except for small sounds from his throat - when he sucks the tip and brushes his lips against the scarred, hard texture.

But Peter’s favorite reaction is probably the one Wade is making right now; closed eyes, a big smile on his face, his warm hands on his hair as he moans his name. He hums around the erection and the merc shouts and babbles something about ‘coming’.

“Peter…!”

Peter closes his eyes as well and welcomes the hot gush inside his mouth, moaning when he finally tastes it completely. He pulls away with a wet ‘pop’ and licks his lips; Wade is looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, breathing heavily, a growling sound coming from his chest and throat.

Peter slowly undresses, not even seeing where he drops the Spider-Man costume; they are naked in the moonlight, Wade resting against the headboard, Peter sitting on the mattress, knowing he will jump on him soon.

And so Wade does, leaping towards him with another growl, seizing his wrists and straddling him on the bed; Peter giggles and would like to kiss him, but doesn’t know if Wade wants to taste himself on his lips.

Apparently Wade doesn’t care, because he presses their mouths together, a filthy kiss that makes Peter harder and ready for everything. He remembers his boyfriend’s promise and blushes when Wade starts going down, his mouth never leaving his body, whispering sweet things that makes his skin tingle.

“Baby boy… Look at you, so hard for me…” he bites, without breaking the skin, and sucks tenderly until Peter begs him to touch him _there_. He even thrusts into the air to convince him and Wade grins and finally curls his fingers around the base of his erection, engulfing it with his mouth.

Peter screams; Wade’s tongue seem to be everywhere, hot and big, caressing every inch. The chapped, rough lips are driving him insane and Wade _talks_ , doesn’t stop talking to him as he blows him, sucking hard and licking until Peter is a panting, moaning mess clung to the sheets.

“Wade!” he calls, his hand searching desperately for something to hang on; he finds Wade’s head and gently grasps the back of it, unable to contain the sounds coming out of his mouth. He comes quickly, without having the time to warn Wade, but the scarred man seems super happy to swallow him and whimpers with a content smile as he lets the sloppy erection go.

He crawls next to Peter and the young man caresses his cheek, too spent and drained to say something.

“Thank you.” he manages to whisper with a raspy voice in the end and Wade beams at him, snuggling closer.

“You liked it?”

“God, yes!”

They laugh and Peter nuzzles Wade’s chest, feeling his eyelids become heavy. But they need to buy food and he doesn’t want to spend the night here; this isn’t Wade’s apartment anymore, his place is at Peter’s now.

He is about to force his limbs to move and get up, when Wade whispers: “You really weren’t disgusted?”

Peter raises his eyes at him and slowly extends a hand to caress a slightly damp cheek.

“No, Wade.” he answers honestly. “I wasn’t disgusted. I was very aroused.” He smiles shyly and cuddles further into the strong arms wrapped around him. “I thought you were really beautiful. You _are_ beautiful. And good, so very good.”

Wade lets out a strange sound, a mix between a laugh and a scoff. He shakes his head, presses a kiss on Peter’s forehead and replies, his voice a bit hoarse: “Silly web-head.”

“One day you will be able to see it too.” Peter says, his tone and face serious and determined. “I will make you see it, I promise!”

Wade doesn’t answer, but there is a smile on his lips and Peter knows he isn’t mocking him nor his words; on the contrary, he believes he will be able to do what he promised, to show him that he is good and beautiful, and Peter is extremely grateful to him for his trust.

They stay in bed, just cuddling, until their stomachs remind them for a second time that they are hungry. It’s getting late and Peter wants to go to the supermarket before it closes for the night.

So he wobbly gets up, patting Wade’s shoulder when he whines and complains.

“Come on, big dude, we have to buy groceries!”

It’s almost magical to know they will do something so domestic together and Wade realizes the beauty of this new reality as well, because he looks up, blushing, and rises without further fuss. He looks ready to conquest the world.

“Wade, you only have these clothes?” Peter asks, peeking inside the bag. There is a spare Deadpool costume and a mask, a pair of boots and the civilian clothes he was wearing when they met in the apartment. Only a few days have passed, but to Peter they look like years and he gently picks up the raincoat, a pair of torn jeans and a red hoodie, observing them with a strange feeling. It’s like they belong to a person that isn’t Wade, to a different man from a different, distant past.

The coat is dirty with blood and Peter remembers painfully well the bang of the gun. There is also the pair of broken glasses, that Wade apparently didn’t want to throw away. Apart from that stuff, there are some boxers and a simple tank top, but no more clothes, nothing else that could keep Wade warm and comfortable for when the cold season will come.

“I… I don’t go out without mask and costume that much.” the scarred man admits, timidly taking a pair of boxers and starting to wear them. “So I don’t really need a lot of clothes.”

Peter smiles and hands him the jeans and hoodie, watching him put them on, then fixes some creases like his Aunt taught him. Wade observes him with curiosity, then snorts and kisses his forehead.

“Neat, tidy nerd.”

“Big, messy bear.” Peter kisses him, remembering he still hasn’t put back on his costume, and hurries to do so before he gets hard again. Just standing near Wade, so tall and strong, arouses him.

Wade thinks for a moment if he should wear the coat and hat too, but seems to decide against it and puts them in the bag; he remembers about the weapons scattered all around and the money from his last job and sighs. Peter doesn’t say anything, just observes him taking all the dollars in his arms and going into the living room, where another pile of money is resting on the table.

Wade turns to him and huffs, pouts, and grumbles: “It’s dirty money, so I know you don’t want me to use it. I will leave it to the landlady, so it will give her a heartattack.”

A warm feeling invades Peter’s heart and he can’t help but laugh heartily.

“Thank you.” he says and laughs again when Wade mumbles something under his breath and puts into his pocket just a modest number of dollars.

“I will take only this amount, okay? I don’t want you to pay for everything today!”

“Aww, so romantic!” Peter jokes and Wade almost runs to him, grabbing his forearms to press him against his hard chest.

“I am super romantic.” he whispers with a grin and Peter agrees with a kiss on his lips. Wade hums and returns the gesture, continuing, his expression softer and sweeter: “We will buy some good stuff, okay? I want your fridge to be filled to the brim with meat - not mine, stop doing that face, you perv spider - and… and vegetables. Vegetables are good, right? You need healthy food. No more sad, precooked shit for my boyfriend!”

Peter chuckles and hugs him tightly, replying: “Alright, but in return you will let me buy you some decent clothes tomorrow. Deal?”

“No!” the merc whines, but he has to give up when Peter threatens to refuse any kind of food he will prepare for him.

“Fine, okay! Nothing too fancy though. I don’t want to make people swoon when I walk by.” he grins and adds as Peter giggles: “I think a nice hobo style would fit me.”

“I was thinking about button up shirts, polos and T-shirts.” the young man says, taking his hand and going back into the bedroom. “And new jeans, pants, new boots, new underwear, tank tops…”

“Like hell you are going to buy me all that stuff!” Wade glares at him and even slaps his butt, making him squeal. “Let me take some more money, I will buy all I need, I swear, you don’t have to waste your savings for me!”

“It’s not wasting!” Peter insists, putting on his mask. “And I am not that poor, Wade. I can buy you some clothes without any problem.”

Wade keeps grumbling and eyeing longingly the table full of money in the living room, but the hero manages to distract him with the issue at hand: the weapons still scattered on the floor.

“You can’t leave these here.” he says sternly, hands on his hips, another thing his Aunt taught him over his childhood years. “That poor landlady is really going to have a heartattack.”

“I will hide them in the closet!”

“No. We need to get rid of them.”

Wade makes a choked sound and stares at the weapons with horror; Peter doesn’t understand why - after all he wants to leave them here, so it’s not like he is going to use them later. But then Wade quickly explains, tugging at Peter’s sleeve: “If we leave them here, maybe the old lady or someone else will gladly accept them, you know how people love having a gun in their house nowadays! That nice lady must feel _so_ vulnerable without one of my trusty pink bombs!”

“So you… don’t want to destroy the weapons?” Peter frowns, trying to understand, and he finally does when Wade whines: “They are my babies! I can always buy new ones, but I can’t stand it when they are killed without a good reason!”

“Oh, so now _they_ are your babies?” Peter is joking, of course, but he tries to make the best cold tone he can and folds him arms, waiting for an answer with an fake-angry stance. Wade’s eyes grow big and he shrieks: “No! _You_ are my baby! My baby boy!”

“I know, silly.” Peter laughs, immediately dropping his façade, and Wade sighs relieved when he sees he’s not really angry. Peter walks over to him, rolls up his mask and places his lips on his; then he grins and says: “Okay, then. Since they are pretty important to you, we will leave them in front of a police station. They won’t destroy or throw them away for sure, so they will be fine. Not… ‘killed’. Still perfectly usable and ready to protect people from monsters and aliens when the time will come.”

“They need to be used.” Wade nods with a sniff. “They start being bad when you ignore them for a while, you know? Once a rifle exploded in my face just because I didn’t use it for a month!”

“Oh, Wade.” Peter sighs; he feels bad knowing his boyfriend suffered so much in the past, mostly due to his careless behavior towards himself. That’s going to change. He will teach him how to take care of himself.

So he kisses his face, as if to make him forget about the past pain and the one still burning his skin, and then webs all the weapons inside a soft cocoon of webs. Wade takes the bag, jumps on him and finally leave the apartment, knowing they won’t step into it ever again.

After leaving the webbed weapons hanging from a lamp street in front of a police station, they head to Peter’s apartment - _their_ apartment. The hero hurries to discard his costume to put on jeans and a simple t-shirt while Wade waits for him in the same room, never leaving his side. If during the trip he has been cheerful and flirtatious, now he is quiet and observes Peter with soft, almost sad eyes.

He is nervous, hidden under the hoodie, fingers tugging at its sleeves, feet shuffling on the floor. It will be their first date and it will be in the middle of other people, wearing normal clothes, without hiding their identities. Without _masks._ Peter knows that’s what trouble Wade so much and after putting on the last shoe, he goes to him, taking his hands.

“Hey.” he says softly and Wade lowers his eyes.

“… Do you really want to be seen with me?”

“Yes.”

Peter hasn’t hesitated, he has answered immediately, and Wade looks up again, searching into his eyes for a confirmation and another reassurance. He finds them and sighs, his shoulders slumping, his head falling gently against Peter’s.

“I don’t want to scare your neighbours and ruin your life, Peter. I… I don’t want to make you feel ashamed.”

“I won’t feel ashamed. I don’t care about what others think.” the hero hugs him and lulls him until he feels Wade’s body relax. “I just want to go out with my boyfriend.”

Wade makes a low sound, nods and tries to smile; his lips are trembling, but he wants to do this too and the excitement he felt in his apartment is slowly coming back, Peter can see it. So he thanks him with a kiss, which he hopes will help him relax too, and brings him to the main door, asking for his permission to open it and go before doing it. Wade nods again and they are out, heading towards the old elevator that will take them to the hall.

Peter never lets his hand go and Wade squeezes it, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ into his hair before the doors open.

The streets are crowded and Wade immediately tenses up, pushing further the hood on his head and face. Thankfully it’s dark and the supermarket is not far; Peter starts talking normally, wishing to make Wade feel at ease with a light-hearted conversation, a simple talk similar to the several ones they had this morning in bed and during their trip to the old apartment.

The idea seems to work because Wade smiles at his jokes, comments about the shops they see as they walk by them, walks to his side without pulling away; on the contrary, he presses himself into Peter when the crowd becomes overwhelming and people bump into them. Their hands are still entwined and Peter enjoys the contact, loves feeling the rough texture of the scars under his fingers, he smiles when Wade rubs circles into the back of his hand.

Finally, Wade starts joking without any more inputs from Peter, who does what nobody ever did before: he listens to him and acknowledges his thoughts, opinions, words. There is a blush of happiness glowing on Wade’s cheeks and when they reach the supermarket, they are laughing loudly, an arm wrapped around each other’s waist.

Due to the hour, the supermarket - which is already pretty small per se - is not very crowded. There are way more people outside and Wade relaxes fully, even letting the hood drop back a little from his head.

“Okay, okay, lemme do this, Petey!”

He takes a shopping cart and strides with it across the place, looking at the shelves with a critical eye. Peter follows him with a fond smile, not wanting to stop or interrupt him. If he buys too much stuff, he will make sure to gently tell him it’s not necessary, but since he really wants to do this, he won’t intervene.

After all, Wade will live with him now, so he has the right to put into the fridge whatever he wants… except for potentially dangerous food.

He realizes now that he is going to share his apartment with Wade, that they are going to live together; as he did in Wade’s bed back at his previous place, he imagines their life together. Wade will probably wake him up with kisses and other mornings, when he feels lazier, he will grumble and hold him tighter to prevent him from getting up. Peter can already see the scene and smiles. He also imagines their evenings and dinners and the one they are going to have soon. They will eat together on the couch or maybe on the bed - Peter doesn’t even care about crumbs at this point - and will watch TV until their eyelids are heavy. Then they will snuggle into bed together and sleep until morning… or play together among the sheets.

It occurs to Peter that he will have to introduce Wade to Aunt May. He will ask him first and wait before doing so, of course, he doesn’t want to scare him, but it’s nice to imagine the scene. First, he will call Aunt May, telling her he wants her to meet a special friend. She will come for lunch and Wade will probably be a little bit awkward, but Peter knows Aunt May will love him, she is too sweet and kind not to. She will see the good that is in Wade’s heart.

Then…

“Earth to Peter! Earth to Peter!”

Wade is shaking a box of cereals in front of his face.

“Are these okay? There is honey in them, do you like it? Too sweet? Want something different?” he grins and adds: “There are chocolate flavored cereals too! I am going to take them as well, okay?”

“We don’t need so many boxes of them.” Peter laughs as Wade throws six boxes into the cart, three for both flavors.

“Of course we do! Oh, veggies! Tell me what you like, I don’t eat this stuff anyway.”

“You should.” Peter scolds him lightly, patting his butt; Wade smirks seductively at him, but there are two old ladies in the distance and Peter sends him a clear look with a clear meaning. The merc understands and focuses back on the vegetables, taking some lettuce and a little bag of zucchine, frowning at them in confusion.

“I think I ate these once…” he mumbles distractedly, before Peter takes the little bag and puts it into the cart together with the lettuce.

“Let’s buy some tomatoes too.” he says, kissing a scarred cheek, and Wade follows him happily, pushing the cart and commenting about everything that is thrown into it: bread, fruits, more vegetables, soy milk, sugarless cookies…

Then, just when Wade is asking him how the hell he managed to stay alive for so long eating that stuff, Peter smirks and picks less healthy food, such as hot chocolate, snacks and jelly rolls, frozen pizza, pasta, ice cream, pancakes and syrup… Even three different brands of delicate shampoo and salts, which Wade examines with curiosity, without asking anything. Peter just smiles mysteriously and keeps going.

The merc is now bright with joy and stares at the almost full cart with a goofy smile; his eyes lighten up when he glimpses a box of chocolates on a shelf and runs to take it.

“We could eat these together after dinner.” he offers, his smile now timid, and Peter can’t help but grab his hoodie and pull him closer to press their mouths together.

“And what would you like to eat for dinner?” he murmurs, breathing over Wade’s wet lips; he is sending a clear message and the merc understands it, because he chuckles and replies: “What about some hot buns?”

“Oh?” Peter looks down at the cart, pretending to be surprised. “But we didn’t take them!”

“I think I found them…” Wade says sultrily, his hands slowly descending upon his buttcheeks. They are partially hidden by the shelves and even though there are still some people around, Peter can’t force himself to care. He giggles when his boyfriend gropes his butt and returns the favor, kissing him loudly at the same time.

Footsteps can be heard nearby, so they are forced to pull away from each other, but don’t stop smiling until they are at the check-out.

There Wade becomes nervous again; there are people in queue and the cashiers notice the big, tall man with the covered face that looks so weird under the bright lights.

Peter instinctively grabs his hand and squeezes it while they wait for their turn; Wade’s eyes dart to the exit, he is tapping his right foot on the ground, nibbling his lower lip. It gets worse when a mother and his kids next to them start staring at him, together with one of the old ladies they saw before who just arrived behind them.

“Do you want to wait out?” Peter asks in a whisper, worried for Wade and _furious_ with these people. How dare they! How dare they making Wade feel bad!

He glares at the woman and her children, who turn their heads with shame, caught in the act. He looks over his shoulder to see what the old lady is doing and he grits his teeth when he sees the critical, perplexed way she is examining Wade’s slumped stance.

She notices his heated glare and quickly adverts her eyes, but has the nerve to appear annoyed by the interruption.

Just when it’s their turn to pay, one of the kids - a boy with a band-aid on his freckled nose - approaches Wade and tugs at his hoodie, sniffing. He is very young, probably five or six years old, and his voice is sweet and shy when he asks: “How did you hurt yourself, mister?”

A cold sweat runs all over Peter’s back and his heart beats terribly fast, probably as fast as Wade’s, who pales and chokes out: “Bad guys.”

“Like my papa! My papa was hurt by bad guys too!” the child points at his face, chubby and rosy, and bounces, raising his voice a bit: “He has a _huge_ scar right here, on the cheek! He is a policeman and a bad guy hit him with a knife, but my dad was faster and…”

“Luka, stop bothering the nice man.” his mother tells him, motioning him to get back to her, but the other kid, older than his brother and as shy as him, steps in with a little voice: “Is he your boyfriend?”

He is looking at Peter and at their intertwined hands; both men nod, Peter with a smile, Wade still scared, fearing judgment and ill comments. But nobody judges them and the two kids smile as well; the younger continues, talking to Peter: “You love him like mama loves papa, then! She said she doesn’t mind the scar!”

“I don’t mind his scars, it’s true.” Peter’s smile grows and Wade blushes, still staring at the little child clinging to his hoodie. “They show how brave he is.”

“That’s what we say too!” the older kid exclaims and Peter slightly bends, his other hand on his knee, to look at them better and say: “I bet your dad is very courageous. The city is lucky to have a policeman like him.”

The kids thank him, then the younger takes out a colored band-aid from his pocket and hands it to Wade, who takes it cautiously, looking at it like it’s an object from another planet.

“It’s not much, but you can have it! Dad always puts a band-aid on his scar when it itches, it may help you too!”

Wade opens and closes his mouth; it’s rare to see him so speechless, but he expresses his gratefulness with a smile and a nod, tucking the band-aid safely into the pocket of his jeans.

They hurry to pay - the lady behind them is starting to fume and the few people in the supermarket, as well as the cashiers, have been looking at the whole scene with curiosity and Peter and Wade can’t wait to be home and relax together in complete peace.

Peter insists to pay half of the total sum and Wade is too anxious to protest, but he glares at him and elbows him slightly as he gives the money to the cashier.

The kids wave at them as they exit and the two men make sure to smile at them before the doors close and they are out; then they walk quickly towards their apartment - _their!_ This word never sounded more beautiful -, bags full of food and stuff in their hands.

“You know?” Peter says all of a sudden, with a big smile. “I think my faith in the new generation has been restored. Its mind is more open and it’s kinder, ready to help and support.”

“… And those brats made you understand this?” Wade mumbles, but he hasn’t said it in a bad way, angry or annoyed with the children. He is joking to hide his embarrassment and the happy blush that replaced his pallor and Peter laughs, bumping gently into him.

“Yes, those kids and the ones we met near the cistern.” he sighs happily, rising his eyes to admire the sky. The stars are not visible due to the light pollution, but it’s a nice sight all the same and Peter takes all the bags in a single hand - he has super-strength after all - to walk arm in arm with Wade.

“… They were nice.” the scarred man begrudgingly agrees. “But they don’t listen to their mothers! It’s a rude generation, Petey!”

“They gave you a band-aid. It was sweet.” Peter reminds him and laughs again when Wade pouts and says that he will probably not use it because he doesn’t want to waste it.

“It’s pretty.” he adds, showing a tiny smile that wrinkle the corners of his mouth in that way that makes Peter tingly with love. “I think there is a Pokémon on it. Gotta check which it is, because there are, like, a quadrillion of them now.”

They talk about videogames and the hypothetical law structure in the world of Pokémon until they are back in front of their apartment building. Wade suddenly stops and looks at Peter with big, worried eyes.

“Was it okay? I-I mean… this date. Because it was a date, right? Sort of. Kinda. D-Did you enjoy it?”

“Well, we went out together, yes, so I guess it can be considered a ‘date at the supermarket’.” Peter agrees, placing the bags on the ground to stroke Wade’s cheek. The merc smiles and he returns the gesture; it’s something they are doing pretty often now and he is happy to see Wade free from his pain and mental sufferance. “And it was a good date, Wade. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Me too.” the scarred man kisses his palm and closes his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Peter kisses him and concludes, reminding him the most important thing: “I love you and we are boyfriends. That’s what boyfriends do.” He winks. “Right?”

Wade snorts and nods, kissing him in turn, and they finally go back home, ready to prepare dinner together.

  
  
\- - -

  
  
They make pasta and surprisingly Wade has to help Peter prepare the sauce; the young man is quite awkward with the pan and Wade, behind him, guides his hands and tells him how much salt and which ingredients put into it to make it tastier.

“Am I doing it right?” Peter babbles, mixing the sauce with a wooden spoon as Wade gently moves his wrist. “Sorry, I usually didn’t bother with cooking before. When I lived with my Aunt…"

“You’re doing fine, just relax.” Wade chuckles, then kisses his neck. “Just like you did this morning in bed, baby boy.”

“Shh.” Peter grinds slightly on him, turning his head to kiss him. “Don’t distract me with such hot memories.”

“The next memories of _that_ are going to be even hotter, I promise.”

Peter giggles and, once the sauce is ready, he asks him to take the plates and arrange the coffee table. They are going to eat in front of the TV and watch action movies until late; Peter doesn’t have to go to work the next morning - at The Daily Bugle they still think he has a cold - and Wade… Wade doesn’t really have anything to do.

Now that he is with Peter, he will stop being a mercenary. He knows Peter doesn’t like when people are killed, especially for money, and he doesn’t want to put him in danger. So he will stay away from the mercenary world - something that he has desired to do for a long time, to be honest. For a certain period, he has enjoyed killing, that’s true, but only because he knew nothing better.

There was no hope, no love, no happiness in his life, a life that until a few days ago was a mess crumpling down, eating away what remained of his sanity and mental stability.

But now he is with Peter and he knows he can do it with his help. He can become a better person - Peter believes he already is and if that is true, then he will work hard to become even better.

 _‘I will have to find a job.’_ and even if the thought scares him a little, Peter’s smile and his playful tone as he asks him to sit with him are enough to give him strength.

They sit, plates in hand, and the first movie they start with is _Pacific Rim_. They are comfortable, legs tangled on the couch, and the bliss of this domesticity and peace are like a warm blanket on Wade’s shoulders. He laughs and jokes, licks a stripe of tomato sauce from Peter’s face and, when they are done eating, they finally lay out on the couch and cuddle together.  

They are halfway the movie when a familiar ringtone resonates in the distance.

Peter pauses the scene and glances at the bedroom; then he looks back at Wade with anxiety.

The scarred man recognizes that sound. Sometimes his memory may be bad, but he remembers the important things and the ringtone of Peter’s special cellphone is pretty important. It means there is a mission for him, right?

But Wade knows it’s not about that, this time. The other Avengers are probably worried about Peter - and scared of what he, Wade, could do. Hawkeye made that somewhat clear and Wade has no intention to make them worry and be angry at him any longer. If he and Peter want to keep living together in peace, they will have to deal with the other superheroes’ opinion, first.

“Go answer, Petey.” he tells the younger man, kissing his forehead, and Peter understands, rushes to the bedroom and comes back with the cellphone in hand. He presses a button.

“Yes?”

A moment of silence, then he frowns.

“Yes, he is here with me. _Yes_ , he is okay, but if he doesn’t want to talk with you, then you must not insist, Cap.”

“I want to!” Wade springs up, extending a hand. “Don’t worry, Petey, I want to!”

“Are you sure?” Peter whispers, his eyebrows raised in a sad expression. When Wade nods, he hands him the cellphone and goes to stand next to him, holding his other hand and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Hello?” Wade says with a loud voice, trying to sound cheerful and relaxed. The voice on the other side is cold and collected.

“We need to talk, Wilson.”

“Yeeeah, I think it’s about time we have a chat.”

“I will tell you something I already told Peter. This is not a game and you are in a delicate position. You are unstable, Wilson, and I can’t let you stay in the city - stay in the proximity of Parker or any other Avenger - until I am sure you are not a threat. The others agree with me.”

Any semblance of calm abandons Wade, but he keeps his anger under control and doesn’t scream, doesn’t yell nor curse; he simply replies, face red, eyes full of fire: “I love him.”

Cap stays silent for a long time, then asks, sounding less cold: “Do you really?” His tone is still distant, but it contains a trace of surprise and even a hint of doubt.

“Yes.” Wade holds tighter Peter’s hand, looking ahead, as if Cap is right in front of him. “I really do.”

Another moment of silence, then the super soldier sighs.

“We will discuss about this tomorrow. Come to the Avengers Tower at 10 AM. Parker can come too.”

He ends the call and Wade scowls at the screen of the cellphone.

“What did he say?!” Peter asks with panic, tugging at his tank top. “Did he offend you? Was he rude? Did he ask you…?”

Wade moves his eyes to his and cups his cheek.

“Tomorrow morning, at the Tower.”

“Okay, but…”

“Everything is fine, Peter. Don’t worry.” He caresses his face with a rough thumb. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course I know!” Peter looks more anxious than ever now. “I love you too!”

“Thanks, sweetums.” Wade smiles and hugs him, nuzzling his hair. “Let’s show them tomorrow!”

Peter holds him tight, answering with a determined “yes!”, and Wade feels stronger than ever.

"Come on!" he says, kissing Peter and taking him back to the couch. "We have a box of chocolates to eat!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S FINALLY DONE. Gosh, this chapter is the longest one yet, sorry if there is any typo. It’s full of things and a lot happens in it, because I really wanted to give you all a special present before going on vacation. I won’t be able to work on the next chapter for a week, so I hope you will enjoy this in the meantime. :>
> 
> Thanks to Kou for the burger line!

When they go to bed, Wade asks Peter if they can sleep naked. Simply sleep, without clothes on.

Peter of course accepts and they cuddle under the sheets feeling each other’s skin and body; Wade never stops staring at Peter, as if he is going to disappear from his arms any moment now, and Peter returns his gaze with a smile and a hand softly brushing his cheek, gently so he doesn’t make the scars sore.

“What’s wrong?” he asks after a while, even if he suspects what may be troubling the merc. As he thought, Wade sighs and presses his forehead against his, murmuring: “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You are not going to lose me!”

Peter gently holds his head and looks at him, at his face illuminated by the soft light entering from the window, with determination; Wade closes his eyes, enjoying the touch, and continues, anxiety dripping from every word he speaks: “Peter, if they don’t approve of our relationship, if they… if they refuse to be happy for us, then they will give you hell. Cap will try to protect you or whatever, the others will keep an eye on you constantly…” he growls, already imagining the grim future, the stress, Peter’s strained smile after months of difficult relationship, the continuous monitoring that will spy into their life together…

Wade reopens his eyes, stares at his boyfriend - _boyfriend! Peter is his boyfriend now!_ -, then sees the scar left by the bullet he shot at his shoulder, before the Skrulls attack. Panic invades him.

“Maybe they are right.” he chokes out, suddenly pulling away and sitting up. “I am unstable, maybe I am really going to hurt you _again_ and…”

“Wade, stop! Don’t say these things!” Peter holds his hands, tries to look into his eyes again, but the voices are back and for a moment Wade can hear only them.

_Of course they are right. One day you will hurt him a second time._

_You are going to kill him! His life is in danger as long as you are together. Why are you so selfish?_

_He is your boyfriend, yes, and you know what that means. He will die because of you._

Wade stares at the wall, without really seeing it, eyes large with shock as Peter shakes him by the shoulder. Finally, he snaps back and looks at him, trembling.

“I… I shouldn’t be here.”

All the self-assurance he had before is crumbling down, weakened by the voices and his fears; his love for Peter is as strong as ever, but he doesn’t know if he can really convince the Avengers about it. Cap himself sounded really mistrustful and Wade _knows_ he is unstable, that he is still unwell… he also knows Peter believes in him and sees him as a good person and Wade wants to become better, wants to be a good man, but what if he ruins everything - what if he really _kills_ Peter - before succeeding? 

He makes to get up, heart hammering in his chest, so hard he is sure it’s going to burst out - and for a moment he remembers the other heart he carved out of his chest and threw in his old bedroom -, but Peter pulls him back on the bed and hugs him, stopping him from running away, to escape from this reality the voices and the other superheroes threaten to destroy.

“Wade, please, listen to me!” the young man cries and Wade shuts up, as well as the voices, which seem to be chased away every time Peter talks to him.

“Honey, I know you are scared.” the hero starts, cupping his cheeks. He smiles and Wade feels strong again, just like after his conversation with Cap on the phone. “But I also know you can show them you are a good person, not a crazy, unredeemable man. And you know what? I know for sure that not all of them think so badly of you. You saw it for yourself, Barton trusts you and I am sure Banner does too. We are not alone in this.” Peter’s expression turns sad and sweet at the same time. “You are not alone. I told you, I will never leave you, no matter what.”

“What if I fail at convincing them I can be good?” Wade gulps, bad memories flowing back into his mind. “I already did, Peter. Failing is my thing.”

“Did you fail when you helped us against the Skrulls? Did you fail at the supermarket with those children and people?” Peter kisses him, laughing softly. “Did you fail when you declared your love to me?”

Wade looks down and starts playing with the smaller, longer fingers in silence; he feels Peter pressing his head against his and mumbles: “I _am_ unstable, though. I was so confident just one hour ago and now…”

“Unstable doesn’t mean you are dangerous as Cap wants to think. And even if they don’t approve, even if they can’t seem to give you a chance, then it’s their problem. They can’t stop me from loving you, they can’t stop us from loving each other!” Peter insists; he adds in a mumble something rude about the Avengers and Wade can’t help but laugh, anxiety slowly being lifted from his shoulders; he is breathing better, the voices are gone again - even though he can still feel the familiar pressure on his head - and despite the shame caused by millionth bad scene he made in front of Peter, he feels already good.

He blushes, knowing his mental problems and stress cause these sudden panic attacks, and then it hits him; Peter always supported him, always helped him; he is doing it now too and his only presence has been the best cure for Wade’s illness. He never asked for the same help, for the same support and attention and Wade feels like shit again. What kind of boyfriend he is if he never asked Peter how _he_ was, how he was feeling?

He remembers the way he was crying by the window, his tired stance, his red eyes and the big tears streaming down his pale, gaunt face. He assumed he was very stressed by the whole ordeal, by all the emotions they had gone through the week, then Peter declared his love and kissed him and…

Wade realizes he still doesn’t know much about him. He knows he is poor, that he has an aunt and an uncle (what happened to his parents anyway?), that he is neat and tidy, that he loves healthy food and his heart is big, strong and generous. But that’s it. He can’t help and support Peter if he doesn’t know whether he has problems, issues as big as his or not.

“I suck.” Wade mumbles and Peter mistakes the meaning of those words for something else.

“No, honey, you don’t.” he says with a fond smile, brushing a thumb on his cheekbone. “You are so very good.”

The merc shakes his head, furrows his hairless brows and insists: “I will make up for it, I swear.”

Peter blinks, confused, but Wade doesn’t give him time to ask more; he focuses on him and kisses his forehead, saying against it, his voice slightly muffled: “I am sorry, Peter. Not just for what happened now, also for… for everything.” He pulls back and brushes his soft hair, his lips, his nose. “I was selfish and didn’t think about you.” He takes in a deep breath and concludes, hoping not to sound too scared: “I will never leave you as well.”

When he hears the voices faintly laughing in a distant mental background, his eyes widen and he starts babbling, already sure to have made a disaster.

“I-I…! I know that sounds horrible coming from me, it must not be reassuring, especially when I am so naked - _God,_ this author loves writing me naked! - and… and…”

“Shh.” Peter laughs, pressing against him, a finger on his mouth. “Relax, think and then continue, knucklehead. You already earned a lot of points with just those few words.”

The voices are gone in an instant and Wade blushes as he keeps going: “If you ever need to talk about something, to vent, to simply get something off your chest, then do it. I am here for you and I will probably say something stupid to make you feel better, because I am not good at words like you, but… but I am here to hear everything you have to say.”

He clears his throat and waits for Peter’s answer; the young man’s cheeks turn pink, he opens his mouth, then closes it and smiles, cuddling closer into Wade.

“Thank you.” he says, kissing the space above the merc’s heart. Wade hugs him, face into his soft, sweet-scented hair, and Peter, almost timidly, asks: “Then… do… do you want to hear about my uncle? I would really like to talk with you about him.”

Wade sees a silent plea in his eyes, but even if he hadn’t seen it, he would have accepted right away; so he smooches the young man loudly and exclaims: “Of course!”

They go back under the sheets again and Peter rests his head on the rough, broad chest, sighing happily on it. Wade feels at peace, calm, he successfully went through the nasty, little crisis and even though he is still scared shitless, he wants to listen to Peter now. He tries not to think about a hypothetical bad future, focusing on his boyfriend instead. It’s what most matters right now and he wants to make every moment count… especially if the Avengers are going to give them hell the next morning and all the days after.

He listens intently as Peter describes his childhood and his fond memories. Wade can’t really relate, since he never spent any good time with his father, but he likes to imagine the little Peter he saw in the photos running in a park with his uncle searching for bugs, helping his aunt in the kitchen, eating with them around a table with Christmas decorations… Peter doesn’t brag, he just remembers with a soft smile, and Wade is happy for him, happy that he had a good life and his relatives took care of him.

Then Peter’s gaze becomes distant, he partially hides his face on Wade’s marred chest and changes topic; even his tone changes and Wade already can feel what’s coming.

Peter tells him about the bite, the powers, his initial fear and then the enormous happiness and pride he felt. He admits he wanted to earn lots of money, to become famous and feared, to exploit the new inhuman abilities to repay his uncle and aunt for all their love and care.

Then he arrives at the bad part and Wade closes his eyes for a moment, bracing for the pain he is going to hear in Peter’s voice.

“One day… one day I saw a criminal, a… a thug like the ones we found in that alleyway. I… I didn’t stop him, I let him go and…”

He sniffs, tears already streaming down his face, and Wade tightens the hold around him to make him feel safe.

“I saw him not long after, killing my uncle to rob him and…” Peter bites his lips not to sob, but Wade kisses his forehead to let him know he doesn’t have to worry, so he finally starts wailing, face into his neck.

“ _I_ killed my uncle! It was _my_ fault! If I had… If I had stopped that man before…” He chokes on a sob and wraps tighter his arms around Wade’s neck, barely able to speak out: “My aunt, I had to help her, I had to take care of her… This is why I became Spider-Man, I didn’t want to see anyone else die because of me!”

Wade holds his shaking frame, feeling the protruding ribs and the lean muscles under his hands; he stays in silence, letting Peter cry in peace, watching and listening with sadness as he lets all the bad emotions, memories and stress out. He brushes back his hair once in a while, dries his tears with his fingertips even if they keep coming without a pause, kisses his brow and simply stays with him.

As he suspected, Peter has many problems too; guilt and pain has been eating him away for all these years, just like cancer and the mental problems have been doing to Wade. And now the mercenary finally understands fully what Peter meant when he said he could understand, that he could relate to him.

They are similar, after all, and if Peter’s aunt hadn’t been there for him, if she hadn’t been the last light in his life that he had to protect, then he would have probably become someone like Wade.

But Wade is here for him now too and he will do his best - he will do everything he can, even destroy himself or push himself to his greatest limits - to make sure Peter will be always alright, always well with himself and the rest of the world.

_‘Hell, I will_ destroy _the world if it keeps shitting on him!’_

“I am not the perfect hero you think I am.” Peter continues, his face red with shame, his eyes covered by a thin layer of tears. “I… I am just a stupid man who tries to redeem himself every day, but I will never be able to forgive myself, to bring my uncle back, to… to _pay_ for what I did.”

“That’s not true.” Wade finally speaks, looking at him with a serious, totally sure face. He wipes off the tears from Peter’s cheeks and eyes - even the snot from his nose - and continues: “It was not your fault and you didn’t give up, Peter. You faced that tragedy.” He smiles softly, a melancholic light glinting in his eyes, and Peter looks back at him with surprise. “You decided to do better, to keep going and make the world a better place. You are a hero, Peter, one of the best.”

He nuzzles his cheek, watching as Peter’s lips tremble and his eyes swell with tears again, and adds: “And don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t one, understood?”

Peter stares at him in silence for a long second, then chokes on a sob and asks with a shaky voice: “Am… Am I still your baby boy?”

And Wade laughs, not to mock him, but because he really can’t believe Peter is fearing that; he continues to laugh while he pulls closer the young man and strokes his back.

“Of course, Petey.” he answers, pressing his mouth on his hairline and temple. “You will always be my baby boy. And my sweetums. And my web-head.”

Peter laughs with him and raises his head; his face is flushed and a bit puffy, but he is smiling and more beautiful than ever.

“God, Wade.” he giggles while the merc starts lulling him. “We are both so messed up!”

“Hey, that’s the fun part! Can you imagine being like those folks you see on commercials, all boring and shit? Man, where is the fun in that! Crazy and fucked up can be good, we can be insane together!” Wade jokes and lets out his booming laugh that Peter loves so much; he dries the last tears from his face and kisses him deeply, the taste of chocolate they ate after the call still strong on his tongue.

“Thank you. For listening and… and…” Peter says breathily when they pull apart and the beautiful smile is still there, brightening his humid eyes, and Wade shakes his head with a chuckle, kisses him a second time and replies: “Anytime, Peter.”

“My aunt would love you, you know?” Peter is smiling reassuringly now and Wade feels a hint of panic at the thought of meeting his family, but they are _boyfriends_ and boyfriends meet each other’s relatives, right?

_‘It’s a bonding experience, isn’t it? And it would make Peter very happy.’_

“I… I’d like to meet her.” Wade admits; it’s not entirely false and he will have to do it sooner or later if he wants to keep being with Peter. Plus the old lady looked pretty gentle in the photos and Wade has heard enough about her tonight to know that she really is a special person.

He can’t help but add with a weak smile though: “I just don’t wanna… you know… scare her.”

“You are not going to do anything like that.” Peter says and now he is the one who is reassuring again and Wade the one who needs comfort. It’s almost funny how they switch roles like this, Wade thinks, but he guesses it’s just like Peter said; they are both pretty messed up, but they are able to overcome their problems and issues with each other’s help.

“So… this is how it feels like.” the scarred man whispers and Peter raises his eyebrows with another smile.

“Not being alone. Facing things with someone.” Wade shrugs, two red dots appearing on his cheeks; he is aware of it, his face burns more than usual, and he looks away, down, shy and embarrassed. “Just… not being alone. It’s a nice feeling.”

“It really is.”

Peter adjusts himself better on Wade’s chest, kisses it and closes his eyes when the other man resumes the caresses on his hair.

“You will have to tell your Aunt you love dicks.” Wade blurts out and Peter giggles.

“To be honest, I don’t think that will surprise her that much.”

“You do look like a twink, after all…”

Wade fakes an indignant shriek when Peter smacks his thigh and gets his revenge by biting gently down his neck and sucking the tender skin there.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter laughs, pretending to push him away, but in reality just bringing him closer. “I will behave like a good spider, I promise!”

“I love you so fucking much, you know that, right?” Wade growls, totally meaning it and hoping Peter can sense the truthful undertone; he does, because he wraps his arms around his neck a second time and says softly: “I know. I love you too.”

They smile at each other and even though Wade is blushing again, even though his smile is goofy and the scars on his face are probably shifting a lot, he doesn’t stop looking at Peter and eventually leans in to brush their noses together and peck his lips.

“We… we could invite your Aunt, if you want.” he proposes and is glad to see Peter beam with joy.

“Really?” he exclaims. Then he grows slightly worried and adds: “We can wait, though. There is no hurry, Wade.” He shifts to drape a leg over Wade’s scarred waist and rubs delicately his face on his chest. “Whenever you are ready. Don’t worry.”

Wade hums thoughtfully, then asks hesitantly and maybe a little hopefully too: “What about… next week? So I can prepare not only psychologically, but also physically and look not totally like shit. Just medium-shitty. With a healthy dose of horrific and pitiful. Like a burger order, which actually sounds right since my skin looks like grilled meat.” He is grinning and joking, used to mock himself in this heavy, bad manner, but he should have thought before speaking, because Peter’s eyes snap open and the young man shoots a glare at him.

“Don’t talk like that!”

The merc softens and strokes Peter’s back, sad to have upset him, saying sheepishly: “Sorry. It’s a bad… habit.”

Peter’s glare turns into a kind expression as he places a hand on his face and brushes slightly a long scar with his fingertips.

“I know, honey. It will pass, I promise.”

“Hah!” Wade laughs looking at the ceiling, his fingers still playing on Peter’s back as the hero’s move on his face. “It will probably take years.”

“Don’t worry, there is no hurry. I’ll be here to help you.” Peter’s tone is gentle and Wade turns his face back to him to make sure he heard that right.

Peter is smiling innocently at him, but there is a secret message in his eyes and voice, a message that Wade understands and which makes him turn pink again.

A good kind of heat runs all over his body and chest as he replies with a smirk: “Sleep, you web-head.”

“Goodnight!” Peter presses a kiss on his lips and closes his eyes, never ceasing to smile; he gently squeezes Wade’s shoulder as he adds, more seriously: “Don’t worry about tomorrow, Wade. Everything will be okay.”

A small dose of fear comes back into the merc’s heart and for a moment other bad scenes fill his mind, but Peter’s presence is enough - as always - to reassure and calm him down.

“I… I know.” he finally replies, after so long that Peter has reopened his eyes. “You are right. I can do it. We can do it.”

_‘As long as you are with me, I can do anything, Peter.’_

Peter shoots him another beautiful smile, which helps Wade fall asleep more easily.

Before drifting off, he prays he will be able to see it forever.

  
\- - -

  
Peter is the first to wake up; Wade’s face is squished against his and he smiles tenderly, remembering the talk they had last night.

He really wanted - and needed - to tell Wade about his past. It was cathartic and Wade deserved to know more; not about the hero, but about the man behind the mask, as he said to him while he was in the bloody bathtub. Wade doesn’t remember it, but Peter does and he absolutely had to share those memories with him now that they are together.

He wonders if Wade will ever tell him about what happened exactly at Weapon X, if he will ever say something about his past; even though he can already imagine some of the horrible things transpired there after Wade’s reactions in the bathroom, Peter would love to know more, not due to a childish curiosity, but because he would be able to help him more that way, to understand better what he can do to make Wade’s life better and chase away his fears and panic. Still, he will wait, like he did before; there is really no hurry and he wants Wade to be comfortable and ready to open fully to him.

He did the same with him and Peter is extremely grateful for it. No, not only for it, but for everything else that Wade has done for him.

He looks at the alarm clock on the nightstand and sighs; it’s 9:15 AM, which means they need to get up and prepare. Cap is already pretty nervous and Peter doesn’t want to give him more excuses to be rude with Wade.

So he gently presses his lips on the merc’s cheek; today the scars are less protruding, but the number of sores and bumps have increased during the night and Peter hopes the salts and shampoos they bought will be delicate and good enough.

_‘Maybe a cream could help too. Mh, I wonder if I can find something in the pharmacy next block. Or maybe I could make something with my lab stuff…’_

He keeps peppering Wade’s face with soft pecks until he stirs, mumbles and opens his eyes; the young man smiles and gives him a full, deep kiss on the lips, murmuring a sweet “good morning” when he pulls away.

“Mmh… good morning. Is it time?” Wade slurs and Peter nods slowly, his hands in his; he looks for fear and anxiety on Wade’s face and is relieved to see none, not as strong and terrible as the previous night anyway.

He is worried and scared too, not for their relationship, though, because he will never let the other superheroes stop him and Wade from being together; he fears for Wade’s mental wellbeing, for his doubts and horror that Cap and the other’s words will probably fuel a lot. He doesn’t want them to scare or offend him, he won’t let them! They will have to stop being so stubborn and terribly blind, otherwise…

_‘Otherwise I will leave the team. I don’t want to be in a group like that if they keep treating Wade this way.’_

He looks down at Wade and laughs when he sees he is grumbling and hiding his face into the pillow; it reminds him of the scene he imagined when they slept in the old apartment and he laughs again, making Wade look up in surprise.

“What?” he asks, his eyes still sleepy and confused; Peter shakes his head, laughing louder when Wade, unsatisfied by his lack of response, reaches out and pinches his butt.

“Come on, you big guy, let’s go eat some breakfast! It’s getting late.” Peter presses a last kiss on a scarred cheek and gets up to put on his Spider-Man costume. He loves sleeping naked with Wade, it’s simple, tender and genuine. Plus his rough skin feels surprisingly good and even though Peter did his best to avoid rubbing against it, Wade asked him, at some point during the night, to do it freely because he loved the feeling as well.

“I feel like I have to go to school for exams. Finals week and all that boring, terrifying shit.” Wade mutters as he raises and goes towards the bag with his stuff in it. They still haven’t arranged it into the closet and drawers in the bedroom and Peter makes a mental note to do it as soon as they are home again.

“Your friendly neighborhood boyfriend will be with you.” the young man reminds him patting his back (and his butt) as he passes by him. He smiles smugly when Wade reacts to the touch with a happy, playful hum and leans into the kiss that punctually lands on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

Peter answers with a nuzzle on his neck, stopping for a while and simply watching Wade put on the lower half of his Deadpool suit. He tries to be calm, to look like it at least, but can’t help to imagine the bad words and rude jokes the Avengers - especially Cap and Stark - are going to make. He can already see himself webbing one or two mouths shut or slapping some faces with his entire super-strength.

_‘God, as soon as Cap dares to say something bad about Wade, I swear I am going to throw him out of the window! With a single kick. Or maybe a punch. Which one Wade would like more…?’_

The thought is so incredibly good and _satisfying_ he doesn’t even hear Wade asking him a question until a hand is in front of his eyes, going up and down.

“Petey, are you planning a murder? I had the same, exact expression when I did that!”

“Uh, sorry, I was… I was thinking about cautionary things. Plans B, that’s it.” Peter clears his throat and finally hurries to wear the Spider-Man costume still laying on the floor. He smiles at a perplexed Wade and changes topic: “Want some coffee? We could prepare pancakes like yesterday if you want.”

But in the end they choose to eat nothing; Wade says he doesn’t want to puke in front of everyone and Peter must admit that he doesn’t really trust his stomach to receive anything right now either. Just a good, old cup of coffee to boost their energy will be fine, at least until lunch.

“Oh shit!” Wade suddenly exclaims, staring at something in the hallway, then runs over there and Peter sees him kicking the duffel bag where he was put in after the explosion.

“We forgot this shit here!”

As Wade starts listing all the different ways they can get rid of it (“I am so sorry, Peter, I should have destroyed it yesterday!”), the young man walks over to him, ignoring the stench of blood and burnt skin, and puts a hand on his arm.

“We will bring it with us.” he says resolutely and Wade gawks at him, unable to believe his ears.

“What?? Peter, it _sucks_! And if I am saying it, it means it sucks _a lot_. It’s the most disgusting shit in the world, even more than my old bedroom! Hell, I am surprised there are no maggots in it yet!”

“We will carry it zipped, of course! I… I want the Avengers to see it again.”

It may be a stupid idea, but Peter doesn’t care. He doesn’t want the group to forget what happened to Wade, what he went through, not only after the explosion, but during his whole life. That bag has more than a single meaning and Peter wants to turn something so bad into a way to remind the others that Wade deserves respect.

“Please, Wade.” he says, tugging gently at the merc’s arm. “It’s important, I know it sounds strange, but it is.”

“Sweetums, I am the one who is supposed to be crazy in this relationship.” Wade mumbles, glancing down at the bag in disgust, and Peter chuckles, stands on his tip-toes and nibbles his earlobe, whispering: “Being insane together is way funnier, remember?”

Wade shoots him a grin, then sighs, giving up with a shrug.

“Fine, I guess. Just web it into a big - and I mean really big - cocoon so I can let it dangle. I don’t want to carry this shit on your back. What if you breathe its vapors?”

“Vapors?” Peter raises an eyebrow, biting his lips to hide his smile, as the merc frowns and continues: “Yes, vapors! Jesus, Peter, it’s full of blood and shit and we are going to fly up high under the sun, the scent could mess up your nose and brain!”

“Honey…” but Wade doesn’t want to hear more and pushes him far from the bag, insisting that he must not stay near it.

“What if you catch an infection? A disease?? Come, you web-head, sit here and drink your coffee like a good spider. Even though I am pretty sure spiders don’t drink coffee. Always knew you were special!”

The merc looks almost offended when Peter can’t hold his laughter anymore, but accepts to make him sit on his lap while they finish their simple breakfast.

The ride to the Avengers Tower is not long, but it feels like it, especially when Peter’s heart starts hammering in his chest and sweat runs all over his back and forehead, despite the chilly morning air.

Wade, who has been uncharacteristically quiet on his back, notices and pokes his side, joking with a slightly trembling voice: “Hey, Petey, what’s wrong? It’s like standing under the Niagara falls here!”

“Sorry.” Peter laughs with an anxious, quivering edge in his tone; Wade’s voice interrupted the bed scenes his frightened imagination was creating and he focuses better on the Tower ahead.

_‘Everything is gonna be fine. We can do it. Wade is strong and I will be strong for him. To hell with Cap and the others!”_

“Man, it looks even cooler from up here!” Wade is saying in his ear, admiring the building, its elegant shape and the way the sun hits the windows.

“I will show you the best rooms someday.” Peter promises, flicking his wrist to shoot another web and swing faster. “There is a cool lab and a super, giant television which we are totally going to use.”

“If those guys don’t blow up me again first.” Wade whines, but Peter quickly turns his head to smooch his face and calm him down before landing on the Tower.

For a moment, he thinks about entering directly into the meeting room where the others are certainly waiting for them; however he wants to reassure Wade further and make sure he is feeling okay, so he crawls on the glass and opens another window, jumping into the lounge which leads to the meeting room.

Wade makes a whistling sound, appreciating the place, and starts touching all the flowers in vase and little nice details he can find until Peter takes his hand - the one not holding the webbed bag - and kisses it. Then he removes his mask, without touching Wade’s because he doesn’t know if he is feeling well enough to show his face here, and presses his bare lips on the big fingers again.

“Are you okay?” he asks and is happy to see the red fabric shift as Wade smiles.

“I feel like I am going to shit my pants soon, but you are with me, so I am super okay, Petey.”

Peter snorts, resting his head against the merc’s hard chest, and breathes deeply, holding the other’s hand above his heart. Then he rises his head again and cups his cheek; Wade leans into the touch and murmurs: “What about you?”

“I am fine.” Peter thinks for a moment, then adds with a timid smile: “Just a little bit nervous, but super fine too.”

“Okay. So…” Wade glances at the closed door and gulps audibly. Then he looks back at Peter and squeezes his hand, asking hesitantly: “What should I do?”

“If the Avengers start being a bunch of a-holes and the voices come back, don’t listen to them!” Peter starts immediately; he thinks he has a clear idea of how the voices are triggered and how they can be hushed down and he will do his best to keep them at bay. “I will stay next to you the entire time. If you feel bad, hold my hand tight and we will go home. Don’t think about bad stuff, be yourself and relax.” Peter’s lips curl upwards and his expression turns sweet and playful. “Later I will make you relax in another way… that special way we already tried before. What do you say?”

“… You know you used a line from the trailer of Guardians of the Galaxy, right?” Wade asks and before Peter can start wondering since when the Guardians have their own movie, the scarred man grins and adds: “Don’t think about it, Petey, sometimes the fourth wall crumbles in my presence.”

Peter knows that’s something Wade loves to do - he talks to a secret audience and believes their world is constantly being observed. Maybe that’s a defensive mechanism to cope with the traumas from his past too and Peter doesn’t mind it; after all, he can’t deny he hasn’t imagined as well a large group of fans rooting for him during his hardest battles and patrols.

So he giggles and asks: “Is it your secret power?” and he’s super happy to hear Wade laugh.

“Kind of. It helps selling a lot of copies, at least. Uh, sorry. I-I am stopping now.”

“Don’t.” Peter kisses his hand again. “Don’t stop being yourself.”

Wade hums, nuzzling the top of his head, then says in a roguish way: “I can’t wait to ‘relax’ with you later, baby boy.”

“Same, you adorable dork.”

They keep staying like that for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence and murmuring sweet words, then they realize it’s time to go.

They walk to the door and before opening it, Wade hesitates for a moment and looks at Peter, then rolls up his mask to the nose and kisses him, even opening his mouth to touch his tongue.

Peter smiles up at him and prays that Wade will be fine, that he won’t be judged and treated like garbage by the ones who are supposed to be good people too. They stare at each other for a long time, then Wade slowly nods and opens the door.

The Avengers are all sitting around the table, waiting for them. When they hear the door open, their heads turn towards the two men and long seconds pass before Clint springs up and shouts pointing at their joined hands:

“I knew it!”

He laughs triumphantly, bouncing on his feet up and down, and reaches out for Natasha and Tony, who groan and put some dollars on his open palm.

“I told you guys! I told you they were definitely together!”

Peter ignores all the curious and surprised stares to quickly scan the room and spots Logan in a corner, who is reading a newspaper by the window with a bored expression; the mutant looks up at them for a moment, then goes back to the news.

Cap is sitting at the center, currently rubbing his eyes as Clint argues with Tony and Natasha about their bet. Then he sighs and motions Wade and Peter to come closer; there are two free chairs in front of him, but Wade’s stance is stiff and Peter understands. He takes the bag from his hand and throws it on the table; even if it’s partially webbed, it’s still clear what it is and there are already some bloodstains on the wooden, smooth surface it landed on. Cap and the others eye it with shock and Clint blurts out a tiny “Eww.”

Wade and Peter stand in front of the table with proud stances and when silence finally descends into the room, Captain America picks up the bag with two fingers, puts it on the floor and finally speaks:

“… How are you feeling, Wilson?”

Wade remains silent for a second, then opens his mouth to answer. Peter half-expects to hear a joke or a witty, funny reply, but something completely different comes.

“I am well.”

The other Avengers share some looks; there is a good kind of surprise in the eyes of some of them, especially in Tony, Jessica, Thor, Clint and Bruce’s. The others prefer to wait and Cap is the least convinced of them all.

“Are you now?” he asks, frowning. He is not wearing his helmet and his grim expression is clearly visible. “No panic attacks? No fits of schizophrenia? What about those… boxes you always talk about?”

Peter squeezes Wade’s hand, reminding him of his presence, and his heart is filled with pride, joy and love when the merc answers immediately and with sincerity: “I don’t hear them when I am with Peter.”

“Told you.” Bruce whispers and Jessica, Carol and Thor smile gently.

“So… he makes you feel better?” Tony intervenes and for a moment his face splits into a grin. “In the psychological sense, I mean.”

“He makes me feel better in _every way_.” Wade retorts, glaring a hole into him, and Peter’s cheeks burn, but he can’t help the smile curling his lips. “He gives me happiness. And hope. And he doesn’t make me feel like shit like I did for my entire life, he…”

Peter’s smile disappears when Wade concludes, his tone low and sad: “I don’t deserve him.”

“Wade!”

There is a rustling in the distance and Logan’s head pops up from behind the newspaper; Cap sighs through his nose while everyone else looks at the couple, at the tall, muscled man showing gruesome scars on the lower half of his face and all his most sincere and inner feelings for the young, lean and worried man standing next to him, holding his hand.

“W-Wade!” Peter repeats, suddenly fearing the worst, and there are already tears in his eyes when his boyfriend thankfully continues: “But I will do my best to become the man he deserves.”

“Shit, bub.” Logan’s voice comes from the window. His eyes are large and he has completely forgotten the newspaper. “I never heard you talking like this.”

“Peter makes you happy and that’s really good, son, but what about you?” Cap is talking again, now, and his tone is not very reassuring. “Do you make him happy? _Can_ you?”

“He does! He does make me happy!” Peter shouts, not even thinking twice about it. “Stop judging him like that! He is not the crazy serial killer you think he is!”

“That’s exactly what he is and I won’t stop until I am sure about his conditions and dangerousness!” the super soldier replies bitterly and everyone is shocked when Clint speaks up: “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cap! He loves him! And he is not that bad, he just had a rough past that messed him up!”

“Like everyone else in this room, but nobody here is a mercenary who hears voices and doesn’t have a good mental and psychological state.”

“Speak for yourself!” Bruce intervenes and the way he is scowling at him and his fingers are twitching is enough to make even Cap worry. “I think you should correct your sentence, Steve. It’s true, nobody here chose the same path Wilson chose and nobody is in his same bad conditions, but I am pretty sure everyone can understand at least some of the problems he has.”

“Fine, but we don’t kill for hire! He does and he enjoys doing it!”

Peter sees how Wade shuffles his feet on the floor, his tightened jaw and trembling lips. He squeezes his hand a second time, leaning into him hoping to bring him comfort with his warmth, and then glares at Cap.

“Don’t talk like he isn’t even here!”

“It’s true that I enjoyed killing.” Wade admits, holding Peter’s hand like it’s a lifeline. “At first it was good, it calmed me, it made the sounds and cancer disappear for a moment. Then I saw all the blood on my hands, all the things that I had done and…” his voice breaks for a moment and then he manages to continue: “I decided to change, I _tried_ and you know it! But it’s not easy and I am not like Peter, I am not like you heroes, I gave up once again and let the world do what it wanted with me.”

“Son, we know it’s not your fault.” Cap replies, holding up his hands defensively. “And Clint and Bruce are right, your life has been hard and we can understand it. But you need help. You are not… safe to be around.”

“So what, are you going to put him in an asylum again?” Bruce steps in once again and the color of his face doesn’t bode well. “You and I already did that to him, Steve, and I regretted it. Not only because it caused a huge mayhem here in New York, but also because it was not _right!_ ”

“Bruce, try to calm down.” Natasha whispers, putting a comforting hand on the scientist’s shoulder; the man growls, but finally looks down at the table, letting out a shaky breath.

“I am not saying that.” Cap replies, maintaining a good dose of composure despite all the glares Peter and Wade - and even Clint, Jessica and Bruce - are sending him. “I just think that he…” he clears his voice and speaks directly to the scarred man. “… that _you_ should let some… doctors or psychiatrists help you.”

“Excuse you?!” Wade shrieks while the mood in the room changes in a second and Peter and some of the heroes start shouting.

“This is bullshit!” Clint yells, smashing a fist on the table. “We already know that it’s not the right way! Why do you keep insisting with it??”

“Steve, we should give him time. He deserves a chance from us, a _good_ chance, and you can’t offer that kind of solutions anymore!” Carol speaks, seriously angry, and next to her Jessica comments: “He is insane, so what? Everyone is, in their own way, and he is not even that bad. At least he tried to do good more than once.”

“Shrinks are not gonna help him, Rogers!” Logan exclaims from the window, throwing the newspaper on the floor. “Hell, you know what he went through! You already made a huge mistake with that fucking asylum!”

“He doesn’t need that!” Peter shouts, gripping Wade’s hand and pulling him closer, wanting to melt their bodies together so nobody will ever bring them apart. “He needs peace and love, he needs a normal life!”

“He can’t have a normal life until he is relatively… less insane!” Cap is raising his voice now too and Bruce’s roar is deafening and makes the windows tremble. After a second, the Hulk is glaring at the soldier while Natasha successfully manages to calm him down before he completely gives up to his instincts.

“Cap means until Wilson is _normal_ again.” Bruce growls bitterly and Rogers looks away, clenching his fist while his cheeks become red.

“I don’t want doctors. No more.” Wade murmurs shaking his head, his tone similar to the one he used in the bathtub, and Peter presses his face into his shoulder, whispering: “No more doctors, honey, I swear, no more doctors!”

“This is what I am talking about! He is not stable, he has so many issues that can be triggered by practically everything!” Cap insists pointing at the scene and now even Tony and Thor looks horrified.

“Are you high or something?” the billionaire says, eyebrows reaching his hairline. “Dude, you know what happened to him, you read his file!”

“I do believe Wilson’s phobias are perfectly justifiable.” the god adds solemnly and Logan intervenes, gritting his teeth and walking towards the table: “Weapon X was not an amusement park, Rogers. I would like to see _you_ after staying there and going through their tortures!”

“You are too severe.” Natasha adds from the Hulk’s shoulder, where she is comfortably sitting, patting his back to gradually calm him down. “You fear for our safety and the city, that’s admirable, but you are doing it completely wrong.”

“I thought we were supposed to talk about his problems, not mine!” the super soldier exclaims and is slightly startled when Peter shouts, pointing at him: “ _You_ are the problem!”

Cap is even more shocked when the others slowly nod and agree.

“So you don’t consider him a possible menace?” he stammers, looking at each of his companions in disbelief. “I know he is not bad - I really do, Wilson, I swear! -, but he is unpredictable and I can’t trust him to be near one of us so much! He could… he could…”

“I could _what?_ ” Wade growls; his whole body is shaking and Peter wraps an arm around his waist to hold him. “Sell information to God knows who? Hurt you guys? Hurt _Peter?_ ”

“God, Cap, you are starting to sound like Jameson! Wilson _loves_ Parker! He could never hurt him, I know it!” Clint jabs Rogers’ shoulder with a finger, his face contorted with anger, and the super soldier becomes equally angry when he retorts: “His love can be dangerous!”

“How _dare_ you!” Peter makes a step closer to the table, ready to punch the shit out of Rogers, but Wade is looking down, mortified, so he stays to his side, murmuring reassuring, gentle words. Clint throws his hands up in the air, mumbles an “I’m done, I won’t listen to this bullshit anymore” and turns off his hearing aid, heading to the window with a growl.

“Now you are exaggerating. A lot.” Jessica comments with a frown while Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and Thor and Carol exchange a disapproving look. Natasha has to pat Hulk faster and talk to him because he is going to explode soon; she does it calmly, but her eyes dart to Cap once in a while and she doesn’t look very happy.

“I think the Man of Spiders is intelligent enough to do whatever he wants and be with the person he most considers right.” Thor says, then shakes his head and adds with a less solemn tone: “I trust his judgment. And I want to trust the man with scars. I don’t think his love is dangerous, his words and voice were kind and honest.”

“And even you said he is not bad, Steve. He won’t hurt Parker nor us, I am sure of it.” Carol tells the super soldier, ignoring his muttered reply: “‘Not bad’ does not mean ‘not dangerous’.”

Tony doesn’t ignore it, though, because he retorts coldly: “They love each other, Steve, and you have to give him - _them_ \- a chance. We can’t meddle into their life; only if something bad happens, only then we can intervene.”

“Did you forget he killed three men with a bomb some days ago? Then he beheaded another one and made an old lady have a heartattack!”

“And did you forget he helped us save the city when the Skrulls attacked?” Peter growls, the urge to punch the soldier growing stronger. “He doesn’t need doctors or medicines, he needs a chance, he needs _respect_! And I am going to leave the team if you keep doing this to him!”

“Fine, then!” Cap slams a hand on the table and glares at Wade, who stands tall and proud and returns his stare courageously.

“I assume you are going to get out of the mercenary world, am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what are you planning to do, exactly? Forgive my bluntness, but you don’t really expect to find a job with those, do you?” Rogers nods at the scars visible on Wade’s chin and the merc bites his lips, not replying. His hand is shaking again and Peter rubs tender circles on it.

“Also, I don’t think you will last long in a… normal job.” Cap continues, scoffing. “You would probably lose your mind even more.”

“ _Steve_.” the whole room hisses, but the soldier ignores the other superheroes’ disapproval and puts his hands behind his back, raising his chin up, never stopping to look at Wade.

“Are you an expert in something that isn’t killing or maiming people? Do you have a kind of education that can help you find more easily a good job?” His tone becomes slightly ironic. “Can you do something else apart from being a killer?”

Wade hesitates, his whole body expressing panic and doubts, and Peter can’t remain silent anymore.

“You will give him a job!”

Everyone’s eyes turn to him, even Wade’s, who looks disconcerted.

“What?!” Cap gawks at him, then scowls. “Is this a joke?”

“Give him a job.” Peter insists, livid with rage. “A job where he can use guns and weapons. He will _protect_ and help the city. Hire him!”

“God, you are going insane too!” the super soldier groans, covering his face with his hands, then he turns sharply to Tony when he speaks: “Actually, I think that’s a good idea. Why don’t you talk with Fury? S.H.I.E.L.D. could use someone like him. _I_ could hire him too.”

“He could help during our missions too.” Carol steps in, while Jessica, Thor and Hulk nod solemnly. “What do you say, Wilson?”

“I…” Wade looks at Peter, then at the group, then at Peter again. He smiles and laughs excitedly: “That would be fucking great!”

“You want him to use weapons? To keep fighting in the city?” Cap shakes his head, at loss for words, and Peter replies angrily: “He can control himself and you saw it. I trust him.”

“I will do my best, Cap, I promise. I won’t kill anybody. No men, women, old ladies, children - especially children, I _never_ killed a child. And if things get bad in my head, then… then I will think about Peter.” Wade gulps and concludes: “Fuck, I am never going to learn if you don’t let me try!”

“I don’t want to hear about more killed civilians.” the super soldier retorts shooting him a mild glare and Wade frowns.

“Why are you so fucking bitter?! Is it because I didn’t put you in my game? Fuck, you were my hero when I was little, you know? I looked up to you and dreamed of becoming like you while my father beat the shit out of me! You are not supposed to be like… like _this!_ ”

“Am I not supposed to protect innocents? To worry about the wellbeing of my companions and civilians?” Cap replies, clenching his fist. “I am sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations, Wilson. Maybe you have the wrong idea of what a hero is supposed to be.”

“Oh, believe me, I know exactly how a hero should be.” Wade growls and removes his mask, showing his face to everybody. There are no malicious or cruel reactions, but Peter sees some of the others flinch or look away for a second and he presses himself further into Wade’s side.

“It should be what I am not. I am the opposite of a hero. I am a _failed_ hero who fought, fought and fought and always _lost_.” Wade looks down at the mask he is holding in his hand and his expression becomes sad and dark. “So I gave up. I _always_ gave up and stopped trying, stopped believing in something different and better. I didn’t gave myself a chance anymore nor I gave it to the world. I simply survived.” He turns to Peter, softening, and the young man returns his gaze with tenderness. “Peter saw something good in me and he was the one who gave me a chance. And with his help I am slowly starting to believe again that I am not just a stupid piece of garbage, but a fucking _person_.”

Wade glares at Rogers, who seems to be having a hard time looking at him, and concludes: “Peter is a better hero than you.”

Peter blushes, taken aback, and hides his smile and flustered face into Wade’s arm; a heavy silence falls in the room as Cap looks down and the others decide not to talk. Natasha jumps off Hulk’s shoulder to walk over to a still offended Clint and explains him what happened using sign language. The archer seems satisfied and gives Wade and Peter a thumbs up, grinning brightly.

“I will talk with Fury.” Rogers finally says, his voice low and tired, and he sits down again. “I will see what can be done.”

“And I will look for something for you to do, Wilson, I promise.” Tony adds with a smile, then awkwardly looks around. “So… umh… I guess the meeting is over.”

Everyone springs up, relief written on their faces. Peter and Wade look at each other in awe, unable to believe it went so well. They didn’t expect so much help from the Avengers, especially not against Cap.

“Congratulations to you both.” Thor says as he passes by and the other superheroes do the same, even patting their shoulders or giving them warm smiles. The two men thank them, even Wade, who timidly mutters that he appreciated their support a lot.

Logan is the last one who approaches them; his serious face slowly turns into a grin as he observes the couple.

“A bet, Wilson? Really?” he says ironically and Wade groans, rolling his eyes.

“I had to come up with something plausible! Come on, don’t tell me you are angry for that!”

“You know how many people have stopped me to ask me about your kiss?” the mutant snorts and shakes his head. “Whatever, it’s fine. I am just glad things are better now.” He looks at them and their joined hand one last time, then says sincerely: “Uh… I am happy for you both. I mean it. Especially for you, Wilson, you really need this. Take care of Parker, okay?”

Then he pats Peter’s arm and adds: “You too, bub. Take care of him, he is a good fellow.”

“I know.” Peter replies with a smile and Logan walks away, mumbling something about needing a “goddamn strong beer after Cap’s bullshit”.

Natasha, who is accompanying a hungry Hulk to the kitchen, shoots them a look and the two men brace for her comment; but she simply smiles and murmurs: “How cute.”, heading to the door arm in arm with Bruce. The green man turns back and waves at Peter and Wade and the merc comments with a low voice: “I can’t believe he defended us so much.”

Now that the tension is gone, Peter’s legs are like jelly and he feels dizzy and lightheaded; he laughs and takes Wade out of the room and they don’t look back at Cap, don’t even say goodbye to him as he stares in silence at the bloody bag on the floor.

“Let’s go home.” the young man says as they approach the window they entered from. He is so happy and relieved, so joyous, that he wants to laugh and dance with Wade until they are breathless. He can see the same emotions on the merc’s face and kisses him loudly.

“Thank you. For… for everything.” Wade giggles, kissing his face. “The job, fuck, Petey, the job was the greatest idea ever, I… I wanted to find one, but he is right, nobody would have hired me with this fucking face and I am good only at firing guns and…”

“Don’t worry about that anymore.” Peter says, smiling so hard and much his mouth almost hurts. “Stark will give you a good job and even Fury will accept to do that, I am sure of it.”

He looks out of the window; the sky is clear and the air fresh. It’s a perfect day and Peter grins before putting back on his mask, doing the same with Wade’s and lifting him up with an arm.

“Oh, Petey!” Wade giggles swatting his chest. “You never carried me like this before!”

“Hold on tight!” the young man shouts as he jumps out and they start swinging over New York, leaving the Tower behind. “I am going to make you relax _so hard_ once we are home, honey…”

He hears Wade gasp and laughs when he growls into his neck, biting the skin under the spandex.

“Peter…” the scarred man suddenly says, his tone completely different, and Peter stops on a skyscraper to listen to him.

“Yes?” he replies worriedly, eyes wide. “What’s wrong, Wade?”

“This is real too, isn’t it?” Wade holds him tighter, stroking a gloved hand down his masked face. “It’s just… I am so happy that I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

Peter lifts their masks up to their noses to give him a kiss.

“Of course it is.” he grins, unable to contain his excitement and joy. “We did it! You did it! It went great and everything is fine now!” His expression becomes softer, sweeter as he adds: “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Wade.”

For a moment, he fears Wade is going to burst into tears, but he does not; on the contrary, he returns his smile and hugs him, his strong, muscled frame shaking with giggles.

“Let’s go home.” Peter repeats, kissing his neck. “If you want, we could go buy some new clothes later.”

“Another date?” Wade’s muffled voice asks and Peter laughs, stroking his back.

“Another date, yes. Hand in hand, choosing shirts, pants and underwear together. We could go to those big shops where the clerks don’t pester you.”

Wade slightly moves his head from the crook of his neck to grin up at him.

“And make out in the dressing rooms?”

“You read my mind.” Peter whispers sultrily before locking their lips together.

When they finally get home, they resume their kisses and end up doing it on the floor, just near the couch, finally free from any worry, ready to start their life together without fear.

After the climax, while they are breathing heavily next to each other, limbs tangled together, Wade sheds some tears, but they are tears of joy and Peter gladly dries them like Wade did when he was crying about Uncle Ben.

They have enough strength to go back to the bed to rest down and relax - this time in the true sense of the word - before going out to do some shopping.

They talk, laugh and joke about the kind of clothes Wade wants to buy, then they slowly fall asleep.

It’s the best rest they have ever had and when they wake up and prepare to go out, they feel like the world has stopped shitting on them and it’s finally letting them be happy.

  
\- - -

  
Time passes and they settle into a familiar routine. At first it’s a bit strange, especially for Wade who doesn’t want to ruin anything and isn’t really sure if there are limits and what they are about; Peter shows him there is nothing like that and that he can let himself go freely. Gradually, they both get used to their new reality and it’s like a door has been opened, letting in fresh, new air that makes them breathe and feel better.

They help and heal each other; when Wade reveals to Peter his past and the tortures he went through at Weapon X, they finally feel complete and their relationship becomes stronger than ever. Peter holds Wade the whole night - so much and for so long they start sweating and have to take a shower - and in the end they don’t sleep, simply cuddle on the bed. The experience has been hard for Wade, but he feels liberated from something heavy and dark and Peter respects his pain by acknowledging it and giving him his full support and love.

Wade does the same. He always listens to Peter when he mentions his Uncle or Aunt and accompanies him to the cemetery, one beautiful morning, to put some flowers on mister Ben’s tombstone. He is awkward and timid - even if the man is dead, it’s like he is there in front of them and Wade does his best to appear respectable, especially now that he is wearing decent, new clothes. He still hasn’t met Aunt May, but he intends to do that soon, preferably when he will finally have a job to help Peter. Maybe then they could move into a new, bigger apartment… He doesn’t want Peter to keep living in a bad, old place.

Every time he asks Peter more about his childhood, his studies, his day at work or simply shows interest for him and his life, he can see how his eyes are bright with joy and his whole face expresses gratefulness for the attention.

When he tells him he is brilliant, clever, intelligent, pretty, gorgeous or simply compliments him, Peter snorts, blushes and looks away, a smile tugging at his lips, and Wade realizes he has some self-confidence issues as well. He swears he will keep repeating Peter he is a wonderful man every day if that helps him feeling better about himself.

He teaches Peter how to cook and Peter teaches him how to sew; they go buy groceries together every week-end and watch movies on the couch almost every night; Peter makes him do things Wade has never done before, things his particular childhood didn’t let him try, and he returns the favor, sharing with Peter his knowledge about the world and the places he visited. They have never been so happy before and if at first the overwhelming joy is almost scary, they soon learn to appreciate it without fearing for the future.

They discover each other in a hundred different ways and Peter creates the perfect cream to soothe Wade’s pain at night; Wade visits every pharmacy in the neighborhood and finds another one to massage Peter’s back and aching limbs when they come back from a patrol.

They patrol together. Now that everything is okay, now that Wade is starting to feel like a person again, controlling himself has become easy. He just has to focus and think about Peter and his trust; the blood on his blades and on the ground is little, almost all the bad guys are kept alive and when Peter tells him he can keep all his weapons in their bedroom, in a box inside the closet, Wade knows he trusts him completely and without doubts.

The whole city knows about their relationship now. Another picture of them kissing on a rooftop has been taken by some passers-by and since then everyone else has tried to photograph Spider-Man and Deadpool together. The two men have decided to play along.

So people have taken their pictures again and this time it has not been a shock, only a confirmation of something already suspected and known, and the couple have provided the citizens of New York a lot of material to gossip about. The mayor’s reaction has been priceless, especially when hotter photos have been published; Peter and Wade laughed like crazy when the special edition of The Daily Bugle about them was printed out and they spent the whole day howling at the insane words and comments written by Jameson.

One Sunday morning, Tony calls them, telling Wade to come as soon as possible to talk about his job at the Stark Tower.

“Don’t worry, you are gonna use all the guns and weapons you want… in a legal way, of course.”

So it’s with a big smile and a lot of excitement that they start to prepare. Wade is making breakfast, wearing only a towel around his waist after taking a shower with Peter; the young man is blow-drying his wet hair, speaking to him from the bathroom.

“Call me at work when you are done!”

“Jameson is gonna make a fuss again, Petey.” Wade chuckles and Peter promptly replies: “He can do whatever he wants as long as he doesn’t stop me from talking with my boyfriend!”

“You should let me put a smoke bomb in his car… That would be a great prank!” the scarred man sighs dramatically, flipping a pancake. “Although I guess it won’t bother him that much, not with all those fucking cigars he smokes…”

“It’s a wonder he is still able to scream so much.” Peter laughs, lowering the intensity of the blow-drier.

Wade is about to answer when he hears a sound and his eyes fixate on the main door visible from the kitchen; he pales when he sees the handle move and the door open with a familiar creak.

A tiny, skinny old lady steps into the apartment; she is smiling, holding a little box in her delicate hands. Her smile disappears as soon as he catches glimpse of Wade and they stare at each other with shock.

Wade recognizes her immediately and is suddenly aware of his state of undress, of his _scars_ , so plainly visible and clear under the sunlight. The old woman looks at him, at his face, stares right into his eyes and just when she is opening her mouth to speak, the blow-drier is turned off and Peter gets out of the bathroom, a towel loosely hanging from his waist, neck and shoulders covered by hickeys.

“Honey, we could make something special for lunch.” he starts, talking to Wade with a bright smile. “To celebrate your… honey, what’s wrong?”

Peter follows Wade’s gaze and freezes in the middle of the hallway, gawking at the old lady, his face losing every kind of color.

She is looking at him now and Peter gulps.

“H-Hi, Aunt May.”


	15. Chapter 15

Aunt May looks back and forth Peter and Wade’s face, then she casts her eyes down and says with a gentle voice: “I will wait outside so you can put on some clothes in peace.”

She does that and when the main door clicks behind her, Wade turns off the stove and rushes to the bedroom, not even giving Peter time to speak. He follows him, calling nervously: “Wade! Wade, listen!”

He stops, dumbstruck, when he sees what his boyfriend is doing; not taking some clothes from the closet, not looking for his boxers. He is at the window, one leg already outside, and Peter has to run to him to grab his arm before he falls on the fire escape stairs.

“Wade!” Peter exclaims, eyes round and big. “What are you doing?!”

“She saw me.” Wade answers, talking fast, stumbling over words. “She saw me, my body, my _face_ , Peter, she fucking saw me like this and… and…!”

“She wasn’t scared!” Peter assures him. He knows it; his Aunt was probably _very_ surprised, but she is not the kind of person who judges people from their looks. He tells Wade so, smiling warmly, but Wade just shakes his head and Peter is terrified to see tears in his eyes. It hasn’t happened in… in a while. It never happened since that night Wade told him about his past and the tortures at Weapon X.

“I… I have to go.” the merc whispers, voice hoarse, but Peter uses a little bit of his super-strength to take him to the bed and gently sits down with him. Wade relaxes under his touch, especially when Peter hugs him, and he rests his face against his shoulder, shaking.

“This wasn’t the meeting I imagined.” Peter admits, aware of his own state. Half-naked, body covered with hickeys and love marks… to be honest, it’s not a bad way to show his Aunt how much he and Wade love each other, but he understands the other man’s shock at her sudden appearance.

“But… hey! This is a good chance! We should take it!”

“She is gonna hate me.” Wade whimpers, raising his head, and Peter’s heart hurts when he sees the tears now streaming down the scarred face, wetting the rough skin and bumps on it. He gently dries them with his thumbs, murmuring: “No, Wade, she isn’t. She was just surprised to see another man in my house.”

“A man like _me_.” Wade corrects him, the shame clear in his voice, and Peter would give anything to chase it away, to stop it from creeping into his boyfriend’s eyes. After all, Wade’s issues can’t be simply removed with just a month of relationship, even if this month has been the best of their life. Peter knows this and he doesn’t mind being there for Wade; he just wants to see that self-hatred leave him in peace.

“Don’t say that. She is not like that.” he insists, taking Wade’s hand and squeezing his fingers. The merc lowers his head, looks at the mattress and the colored sheets they bought together, and Peter leans in to kiss his forehead.

“Honey, please, just meet her. It doesn’t have to last long and you can go to the Stark Tower as soon as you shake her hand. It won’t even be an excuse, since it’s true.” Peter hugs him again, resting his chin on his head, and Wade hums something. “Don’t worry, I will talk with her. She is so nice, she won’t judge you, I swear!”

“You will have to tell her you like dicks.”

Wade’s tone is normal, now, and he has spoken with so much childish innocence Peter can’t help but snort.

“Yeah, I don’t think it will be a shock for her. Also…” he kisses Wade’s bald head and the merc hums again, this time more cheerfully. “I will tell her I love _you_. That’s what matters.”

Wade makes the sound he always makes when he is embarrassed and doesn’t know how to reply; he rubs his face against Peter’s chest one last time, then looks up at him again and frowns.

“I don’t know what to wear. We didn’t buy a tuxedo when we went shopping.”

“There is no need for a tuxedo.” Peter laughs. “Just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans will be fine. Stark won’t mind them either.” He stops, an idea passing through his mind, and timidly adds: “But if you want to feel more comfortable, wear your favorite hoodie. Really, Wade, anything is good!”

“Even my ‘I love anal’ shirt?”

Peter is about to reply with a witty answer, then he sees Wade’s small smile and sighs relieved, because he knows his boyfriend is slowly feeling better.

“Dork.” he says, swatting his arm. “Come on, let’s get dressed!”

They slowly do and Peter observes his boyfriend from the corner of his eye, watching his stiff movements, his scared eyes, the shyness written all over his face. He walks to him to place a kiss on his cheek and Wade melts, sighing fondly.

“I…” he starts, but has to stop to clear his voice. “I-I don’t want to scare her, Peter.”

“You won’t.” Peter smiles at him and brushes a hand down his back. “I swear.”

Wade looks at the hoodie in his hands, alarm quickly replacing the frail calm in his eyes, and talks fast, as he does when he feels insecure and scared: “I don’t know, Peter, I am not… I don’t look… _reassuring_ and I didn’t get along well with Blind Al… No, wait, I did sometimes and she wasn’t really an old lady, more like a bitter old _creature_ , but…”

“Judging from what you told me about Blind Al, I am pretty sure Aunt May is completely different from her, even if they are both old ladies.” Peter laughs and this time moves the merc’s head to kiss his lips. Wade moans into his mouth and deepens the kiss, wrapping an arm around Peter’s slim waist.

“I don’t want to fuck this up.” Wade whispers when they pull apart and there is sadness in his eyes, so much sadness and disgust for himself Peter feels like crying now.

“You won’t.” he says, knowing it’s true. He softly takes Wade’s head in his hands and pulls it down to places small kisses on his face. “You won’t, trust me.”

“I do.” Wade answers and Peter is super grateful for that.  
  


Finally prepared, they go out of the bedroom and Peter slowly opens the main door, peeking outside.

Aunt May is resting against the wall just next to it and turns her head to him, a smile on her lips, the little box still protected by her skinny, long fingers.

“You could have waited inside.” Peter gently tells her, motioning her to enter, and she steps back into the apartment, shaking her head.

“No, dear, I didn’t want to make you hurry. Nor embarrass you.”

Wade is standing in the hallway, just below the arch that leads into the kitchen and living room. The hoodie brings out his broad, hard chest and body, the jeans show his strong legs. Despite his imposing size and height, though, he looks small, tremendously tiny and fragile. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, how to use his hands, where to put them, where to look.

Peter is about to intervene to assist him, but Aunt May precedes him and walks over to Wade, the smile still bright and big on her wrinkled face.

“I am sorry I frightened you, my dear, I didn’t know there was a guest in Peter’s house!” she looks down at the box in her hands and sighs, a bit frustrated. “Gosh, I would have brought more cake!”

“It’s okay, ma’am.” Wade manages to let out those simple words, but it sounds like there is sandpaper in his throat and he awkwardly clears his voice, continuing: “I am sorry I scared _you_. That… that sight must not have been good.”

“My, I have to admit I haven’t seen a half-naked man in a long while.” the old lady giggles, ignoring Wade’s obvious mention of his scars. Peter gasps, like a shocked child: “Aunt May!”

“Cover your ears if you can’t stand to hear your aunt talk about the good old days!” the woman cheerfully retorts, then her expression turns slightly disapproving. “Really, my boy, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“We…” Wade intervenes, fidgeting and looking down. “We preferred to wait a bit.”

“I see.” Aunt May observes him with a thoughtful glance, then her kind smile comes back and she extends her hand. “I am May Parker. Nice to meet you…”

“Wade.” the scarred man looks at the hand as if it’s an alien life form; his eyes dart to Peter, who reassuringly nods at him, so he inhales and takes the petite hand in a delicate grip. Aunt May doesn’t seem bothered by the rough, irregular texture of the scars and keeps smiling at him.

“Wade Wilson.” the merc concludes and he would like to return the smile, to appear nice, _normal_ , but he fears he would be able to make only a shaky, bad imitation of a lopsided grin, so he doesn’t curl his lips nor say anything else.

“Wade…” Aunt May narrows her eyes, not in a suspicious way, but in the same thoughtful way from before. “You know, I think I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Wade and Peter exchange an alarmed look, an idea already forming in their minds.

Those old photos! The photos taken by the teenagers in the construction camp, back when everything was still a mess!

Wade wasn’t wearing the mask that night; however, even if his features are particular, recognizable due to their special nature, the photos were blurred and taken in the dark, so it’s probable that nobody would ever point at him in the streets and shouts: “Deadpool!”

So, before Peter can come up with a good excuse, Wade does what he does best: he jokes to advert the attention from himself.

“Maybe you saw a picture of Freddie Krueger, miss May.” he laughs, for the first time, and the woman brings a hand to her mouth, paling.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to…!”

“I know.” Wade reassures her, hoping his smile isn’t creepy, goofy or disgusting to see. “It’s okay, miss May, I hear that a lot. My face is pretty special.” He blinks, suddenly worried. “Shit, can I call you ‘miss May’? Or do you prefer something else? Shit, I said shit! _Shit!_ ”

He steps back, clutching the hem of his hoodie, almost tearing the fabric, while his other hand flies to his mouth just like Aunt May’s did.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear.” she says, her eyes softening, blinking with amusement. “I heard my fair share of bad words when I was young. And even later! Miss May is perfect, by the way.” She suddenly beams at him and exclaims: “Why don’t we sit and eat some of my cake? I put chocolate into it, it’s one of my best recipes!”

Miss May really is special and kind, as Peter told him, but Wade doesn’t trust his social capabilities enough right now to eat in front of her, in the sunlight invading the living room, the scars and sores marring his face while they put food into their mouths. It’s something he never thinks about when he is with Peter, because he never shows any disgust or uneasiness; on the contrary, he always insists to eat on his lap or so close to each other on the couch that it’s almost difficult to raise an arm to eat.

But Aunt May is here today and despite her smile, gentle words and offer, Wade doesn’t want to traumatize her or make her puke on the floor.

Because that’s what is going to happen, a malicious voice tells him, the pressure on his head growing stronger. He gulps and shakes his head, ignoring Peter’s worried stare.

“No, thanks, miss May. I have to go to work.”

It feels bad to refuse her invitation - and he never tasted a cake prepared with love by a kind old lady… Blind Al only put laxatives and rancid milk inside hers -, but at the same time he feels pride. That simple, last sentence contains a whole world that makes him appear reliable, good for his nephew, it tells her that he can take care of Peter, that he _wants_ to take care of him.

He is not even sure whether Stark will hire him or what kind of salary he wants to give him, but it’s better than nothing, better than idling in the apartment without providing anything.

“Oh, that’s a pity.” the old lady looks genuinely disappointed and Wade can’t stop his tongue in time, despite what he has just thought about food, scars and puking.

“You could come for dinner one of these days.” he even tries to joke again: “My spaghetti are the best in the world, you can find better stuff only in Italy!”

He winks; his winks are good, he knows that, he trained a lot to appear cool and confident during his missions… so this wink must have been cool too, right?

Apparently it was, because Aunt May giggles and nods, accepting.

“I’d love that, dear.”

“Good! See you soon, then! It was a pleasure, really!” Feeling slightly calm, Wade gently pats her arm, careful not to touch her crisp, clean dress too much, and turns to Peter. He blushes.

Did Aunt May understand their relationship? Did she realize? Can he kiss Peter on the mouth before going?

 _‘A good luck kiss…’_ Wade thinks with a big, childish longing and he can see the same doubt inside Peter’s eyes. Then it disappears and the young man stands on his tip-toes, placing his soft lips on his chapped ones.

“Have a good day at work.” he whispers, smiling sweetly, and Wade wants to take him in his arms and hug him until the sun goes down.

“Thank you.” he smiles back, then brushes their hands together before turning back to Aunt May. She is in the kitchen, placing the box on the counter, but her eyes are on them and her expression is unreadable. Not angry, distant nor disapproving, just… unreadable, but also containing a badly hidden sweetness.

“Goodbye, miss May.” Wade babbles, scrambling to the door; he closes it too hard and winces at the loud noise. He reopens it, looks at Peter and the old woman staring at him in surprise and timidly says: “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. Uh, later.” then closes it again, this time slowly and with delicateness.

He hopes everything will go fine between Peter and his Aunt; that he didn’t ruin their relationship, that she likes him or at least approves of him.

 _‘Please._ ’ he prays, not even knowing who he is talking to. He has stopped believing in God, he doesn’t acknowledge Him since Weapon X, maybe even earlier, when his mom died and his dad beat the shit out of him with his beloved beer bottles.

But today he prays, clutching his hands together as he heads down the building; he prays for Peter and their life together, he prays for their love and even for himself. He knows he deserves nothing - that he especially doesn’t deserve Peter -, but isn’t he a person too after all? Peter is teaching him so, Peter tells him and shows him every day.

_‘Please. Don’t take this away from me.’_

He realizes that facing the Avengers looked like the worst thing, but in reality - despite the calm tones they spoke with - it’s Aunt May the one he has to convince to keep being together with Peter. Not because she would intervene or create problems - he can already see that despite talking with her so little. No, _Wade_ would go away, he would leave Peter to make sure his relationship with his Aunt isn’t utterly ruined.

If she doesn’t accept him, then he will sacrifice his newfound peace for Peter; he doesn’t want to destroy his life nor his family. He is ready to lose everything for him.

But, oh God, it hurts so much! The mere thought of it _hurts_ so much!

 _ _‘_ P_ _lease.’_ he prays again, biting his lips until they bleed. _‘Please, please, please…’_

He is in the streets now and the Stark Tower is partially lost in the distance, surrounded by other skyscrapers and tall buildings; Wade fixates on it, his mind running fast, imagining all the possible outcomes, the dialogue going inside their apartment now that he is not there.

She didn’t look like the kind of person to do that, but maybe miss May is critiquing him now, asking questions in an irate voice, crying because her nephew chose a disfigured man as his boyfriend, an ugly man who brought his marred mug down his nephew’s face and kissed and bit his neck and marked him with his love and…

He has a job though! Almost. Still, Stark promised and even if the salary is going to be shit, even if he can’t kill anyone, he doesn’t care, he will accept anything. If he tells Aunt May he is working for Tony Stark, she will change her mind about him, right? Or maybe she will just overlook his horrible scars, pretend to like him and let him stay with Peter for his nephew’s sake.

She _didn’t_ look like that… but Wade doesn’t like people, he doesn’t trust them and he can understand perfectly if she already hates him and the thought of him being together with the man she raised and took care of for so many years.

But he trusts _Peter_ and Peter told him his Aunt is good, kind, special, understanding. Not only today, during a lot of their conversations at night or in front of the TV too.

So Wade gulps down the bile and keeps walking towards the Tower, pushing the hoodie on his head to hide his face.

 _ _‘_ Please.’ _he prays one last time and then he hears a voice, a voice he hears every day, a voice he loves, a voice he would listen to forever.

It’s Peter’s and it softly tells him: “Everything is going to be okay.”

And Wade trusts it.  
  


\- - -  
  


“He looks like a nice man.”

Aunt May is smiling while she speaks and expertly cuts the cake in half, putting the bigger part inside the fridge.

“He is.” Peter assures her, smiling as well. “He is very sweet.”

He clears his throat, shifting on the seat, joining his hands together on the kitchen counter.

“Aunt May, I… I have to tell you something. You probably figured it out already, but…”

“Oh, dear, I am old, not stupid.” she laughs, the sound crystalline and happy. Her eyes soften and one of her delicate hands rests upon Peter’s.

“You will always be my Peter, no matter what. I will always love you and so will Ben from up there.” She raises an eyebrow and her voice sounds amused when she adds: “Frankly, I can’t believe we didn't have this conversation sooner.”

Peter blushes with happiness, looking down at their hands, and explains quickly, talking fast just like Wade does when he is embarrassed: “I… I never thought about it before, but then I met Wade and… and it felt so _natural_ , he sparked something in me and when it happened I had no doubts, no fears! We have been together only for a month, but it’s like we know each other since years!”

Which it’s partially true; Spider-Man and Deadpool interacted a lot in the previous years, but Peter is talking about the men under the masks, the men with a past, pain and memories inside them, not the mere symbols, the simple ideals and ideas those masks represent in different ways.

Everything started a month ago, inside Wade’s old, ruined apartment; it started with a simple suggestion, but it’s undeniable that there was something in them from the start that made the development of their relationship possible.

There were hope and admiration, fondness and understanding; then trust and more respect came, then finally love, and it felt so good, so right, so normal and beautiful Peter never regretted it and never will.

“I am happy for you both.” Aunt May says, her smile bright and joyful. “What most matters is that you are happy.” She squeezes his hand, looking into his eyes. “Are you, Peter?”

“I am.” Peter answers without hesitation. “Wade makes me happy.” He frowns sadly, focusing for a moment on the tank top the other man left on the couch arm. “He is happy too, I think. I _hope_. I want to make him happy, to give him peace, I want it above everything else. Oh, Aunt May, he suffered, he suffered a lot! You can’t imagine how much!”

“I saw it.” she softly responds, then her tone becomes less sad, more cheerful. “But I also saw the happiness you are talking about. When you kissed… his smile was warm and his eyes immediately told me he is the right person for you.” She giggles and Peter blushes. “He loves you a lot.”

“I love him too.” Peter’s gaze moves to the colorful papers attached to the fridge; they are Wade’s drawings, which he makes once in a while to spend the time or simply to make Peter laugh. They are funny, childish, cute; some of them, though, are more detailed, more effort has been put into them and there is a deeper message hidden into the forms (that tell short stories about Spider-Man and Deadpool), the colours, the dialogues.

Peter pinned the best ones on the fridge; the others are neatly gathered inside a folder, which he put inside the top right drawer of his desk, ready to be opened every time he wishes to see Wade’s gifts. They drew some of them together and those are his favorite too; he always tries to look at them at least once a week.

He laughs softly as he observes the papers on the fridge and Aunt May follows his gaze, giggling when she notices what caught his attention.

“He must be such a sweet boy!” she says, then she shakes her head, a hand on her cheek. “Oh, Peter, I scared him so much! He looked so… so _terrified!_ ”

“He was surprised.” Peter repeats the same words he told Wade, but he needs to add: “Although he _was_ scared too, scared _for_ you. He thinks his scars are horrible and he doesn’t like to show them to people like that, so fully and completely.” He smiles sadly, looking at a particular drawing where Spidey and Deadpool are saving some children together. “I think his scars are beautiful, that they show how brave and strong he is, but he can’t see them like that yet.”

“I wasn’t scared by his appearance.” Aunt May assures, slowly sitting in front of her nephew. “Taken aback, yes, but not scared, not disgusted.” She hesitates for a long moment, then timidly asks: “Is he a veteran?”

Peter’s eyes move to her. He can’t tell her the truth, tell her about Weapon X and Wade’s past, but he won’t lie either.

“Kind of, yes.” he answers. His voice gets lower, sadder. “He went through a lot.”

“I won’t ask more, I promise.” Aunt May starts playing with her hands on her lap. “And I will avoid any kind of heavy or bad topic about war, wounds or… or fire and…”

“It’s okay, Aunt May.” Peter reaches across the counter to shake gently her shoulder. “Don’t worry. He will love you a lot. He already does, I am sure!”

“God, I hope so.” she looks at the fridge, at the cute drawings on it, her expression becoming almost moved. “I don’t want to ruin your relationship. Also, he seems so sweet! Poor dear. Maybe I should prepare all my cakes next time. I wonder which one he would like more…”

“Probably all of them.” Peter giggles, knowing Wade has a sweet tooth and would eat practically everything that contains lots of sugar or has been fried multiple times.

“Do you think he would like my stew?” Aunt May starts pondering, listing all her good recipes. “My soups are pretty tasty… my meatballs are spicy, he may like them too…”

Peter ignores a joke about ‘meatballs’ that popped up inside his mind - Wade’s influence can be very strong sometimes - and replies: “He will love everything coming from your expert hands, Aunt.”

“Then I will bring everything I can next time I pass by.” the woman promises, remembering Wade’s offer. “You two should come for dinner one of these days too!” Her eyes goes big and alarmed. “Do you think he would be okay with that? I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.”

“You should come for dinner here first.” Peter agrees with a nod. “Give him some time to get used to your presence. He…” he stops for a moment, then sighs, eyeing the other half of the cake still on the counter. “He will have a hard time eating in front of you. That’s probably why he refused to stay longer.”

“Oh, dear!” Aunt May exclaims, looking sorry, guilt shifting her wrinkled, papery features. “I didn’t mean to make him feel so bad! I didn’t know he was here, I would have called to warn or… or…” She sighs, shaking her head again. “He must not worry about that. Please, tell him, Peter! I don’t find his scars to be disgusting, he doesn’t have to feel ashamed!”

“It’s going to take a while to make him change his mind about that last part.” Peter says sadly, but then he smiles, sure and confident. “We have been together only for a month and he already made a lot of progress, though! I know he can get better. This is what he needs.” he gestures to himself, to the apartment, to the cozy kitchen filled with domesticity and warm, beautiful memories and little, nice, familiar things.

“Love?” Aunt May smiles in return and Peter nods.

“That, and a family.” the young man extends a hand, which his Aunt immediately grasps. “You already took care of me and treated me like your son. Please, could you do the same with Wade? He has been alone for so long and…”

“You don’t need to ask, Peter. I would have done that anyway.” the old lady gets up to walk around the counter and hug him tightly. “I am so happy for you two!”

“Thank you, Aunt May.” Peter lets out a relieved sigh and when his eyes start stinging and his sight gets blurred, he sniffs and pulls away to rub his face, lips trembling.

“Thank you.” he repeats softly, not wanting to cry in front of her, but not doing a good job at hiding his tears. “It means a lot.”

“There, there.” the old woman laughs, patting his shoulder. “No need to cry, my boy. Let’s eat some cake instead! And don’t forget to make Wade eat it too later.”

“Of course.”

Peter beams at her; he knew everything would have gone well, but it’s been relieving and incredibly good to hear that Aunt May really approves of them and wants to be Wade’s friend.

_‘He will be so happy! I can’t wait to tell him!’_

Then he remembers where Wade is going - where he probably already is. He knows Stark will hire him for sure, but what kind of job will it be? Will it be good for Wade or bore him to death instead? Will it be humiliating for him?

Peter doesn’t mind if Wade has to use weapons; he has seen the other Avengers use them or kill enemies for necessity. He just doesn’t want gratuitous, chaotic, not necessary death, he doesn’t want Wade to resort to killing because it makes him feel temporarily better, when in reality it just causes him more guilt and self-hatred. He doesn’t want him to be a slave of the life the world chose for him, he wants him to be free and fighting for what is good, not for what can destroy his already frail sanity.

 _‘Please, God.’_ Peter prays as his Aunt starts slicing the cake, not listening to her. _‘Please, give him a good chance. Make sure that he won’t accept a shitty salary just to make me happy and provide for us. Stark wouldn’t offer something like that, though, right? … Oh, please!’_

He tastes the cake, but doesn’t really feel it in his mouth; his mind rushes, it imagines scenes where an embarrassed Stark offers Wade a mediocre security job in one of his smallest industries which will make him feel useless and frustrated. Scenes where the billionaire tells him he can’t trust him yet with something different and more important, more complicated. Scenes where Wade is underestimated for the millionth time, where he is considered a stupid, crazy mercenary as always, where his intelligence and creativeness aren’t even noticed.

He nods and smiles when his Aunt keeps talking and his fingers twitch on the cold surface of the counter, they play with the edge of the half-empty plate, he imagines Wade coming back with a too bright smile that wants to hide his anxiety, his disappointment, his sadness.

 _‘Please, God.’_ Peter closes his eyes for a moment, pushing back the tears. _‘Give him a chance!’_  
  


\- - -  
  


When the doors of the elevator opens and Wade steps into Stark’s personal office, he is already having a mild heartattack and his mind is filled with images of Peter’s tears as he tells him his Aunt was terribly angry and grossed out, that he tried to talk to her in vain, that he doesn’t know what to do, that they can’t be together anymore, that…

“Wilson!”

Stark’s nice tone brings him out of the pit of despair he fell into, but the anxiety doesn’t go away so easily and Wade replies too loudly, too cheerfully:

“Tin-Man! Did I ever tell you it’s good to see your chest glow like that? I still can’t understand why the hell they removed it in your third movie!” He ignores Stark’s confused face and concludes: “I hope you have good news for me!”

He shakes the billionaire’s extended hand with a lot of energy, grinning like a madman. “You have good news for me, don’t you?”

Stark observes him, blinking slowly and flexing his aching hand; then he makes a surprised sound and asks, dumbfounded: “Are you _nervous?_ ”

“N-No!” Wade flinches back, offended, his pride hurt. “Of course not!” but his voice is high-pitched and it sounds funny even to his own ears.

“Wilson nervous for a job?” Stark jokes, without any malice; he laughs when Wade pouts and motions him to follow him to his desk. “Come. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Is it that easy?” Wade ironically says, sitting down with a snort. He almost regrets his words because Stark looks at him with a somewhat hurt expression.

“No, it’s actually difficult. Not difficult like… _impossible_ , but it will require all your experience.” the billionaire explains. “I know you have a lot of it.”

Wade looks at the papers scattered on the desk and his hairless eyebrows shoot up when Stark passes him a contract. He is not very used to them; contracts are usually verbal in the mercenary world, to avoid any kind of proof or link to illicit actions and people. After all, it’s not like someone can’t refuse to pay after the job has been done. They wouldn’t stay alive for too long, especially with someone deadly like Deadpool.

He looks at the blank space where he must write his signature and laughs inwardly, thinking that he rarely used his true name in the past, when he rented apartments, bought weapons and so on.

This is going to be something legal. Something good, normal. Something to be proud of, something that will help him feel like a person, something that will make both him and Peter happy.

The thought of Peter warms his heart and he sends another small prayer to whoever is up there. He hopes mister Ben is looking down at him with a smile. Maybe he will tell God to lend a hand to his nephew’s boyfriend.

His eyes scan the contract, but before he can start reading it, Stark speaks.

“It’s a security job. There is a special structure, here in New York, that needs protection and assistance.” the billionaire sits down, presses two keys on a modern-looking keyboard and a blue screen pops up in the air. Wade whistles, approving of the sci-fi taste.

The screen shows a pretty big Stark building surrounded by a park; Wade’s expert eyes can already see all the cameras and security stuff to keep it monitored, disguised as simpler things not to attract unwanted attention.

“Why is it so important?” he asks, leaning in on the desk, elbows on it. Stark presses another key and the image changes; there is a zoom of the building on the screen now and Wade hums when he notices all the damages and repairs on the walls and windows. Some doors are burned, the wall around them battered and darker, meaning there have been recent explosions.

“It contains S.H.I.E.L.D. top-secret stuff.” Stark explains with a sigh. “Fury asked me to keep it somewhere safe, but it’s not easy to find a place like that in New York… not anywhere else, if there are people who wants to access it like crazy.”

“What kind of people?” Wade asks, his professionalism kicking in. They must have been tough guys, if the mild damages and explosions shown by the screen are anything to go by. Stark confirms his intuition.

“Sometimes the facility is attacked by terrorist groups; they either try to hack the servers inside or forcefully invade the building. In the first case, the scientists working there have no problems and chase them away as soon as they notice the virtual intrusion. However, they are not well armed nor trained for the second case, not as much as I would like or as it would be necessary. They prefer to lock every gate and door rather than take a gun and start defending the place with some bullets, but when their precious locks are blown up and terrorists march in, they don’t know what to do.”

“There are no guards?” Wade looks up at the billionaire, frowning. Stark sighs again and continues: “There were a lot of good guys until two days ago. Another group of criminals managed to enter and killed them all, as you probably guessed looking at these images. They even hurt some scientists, but Fury intervened before they could steal anything or kill everyone else.”

“This is why you need me.” Wade’s eyes move back to the contract. “You want me to protect that place.”

“I want you to protect those people.” Stark gently corrects him. “By leading a new team of guards. You will tell them what to do in case of attack, which weapons to use, how to escort the scientists to safety and so on.”

Wade’s mouth hangs open and he blinks two times, sure to have heard wrong.

“You… you want me to lead a group of soldiers?” He lets out a weird, weak laugh. “ _M-Me?_ ”

“Oh, they are not just soldiers! They are S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits! Fury needs someone to train them.” Stark has spoken with a big, toothy smile. “You are going to be their teacher!”

“You are insane. You and Fury.” Wade frantically shakes his head. “And it’s coming from _me_ , so it means you are really two psychos! Those kids are gonna die with me leading them! Hell, they are gonna die as soon as I step into that facility!”

“That’s not true.” Stark’s expression softens, becomes mild and kind. “It will be a good training for you too and I know you won’t let anything happen to those young men.”

Wade shakes his head again, this time with less energy, and stares at the contract without reading it. Stark suggests him to do so.

“There are no clauses.” he assures. “No tricks. You know I wouldn’t do something like that. And the pay is good, it will help you and Parker! There will be bonuses and rewards during the year, of course, and…”

“If something happens…” Wade gulps, looking away from the piece of paper. “If something bad happens, I could never forgive myself.”

“I know you can control yourself now. I saw it. You and Parker helped us a lot this month and you have never lost control.” Stark leans forward and pats his arm. “You have to trust yourself more.”

Wade stays quiet, looking back at the contract with a timid face.

“You are all crazy.” he mumbles and jumps on his seat when another voice replies in the room: “I hear that a lot.”

Steve Rogers is leaning against a door, different from the one Wade entered from, and there is a small, but warm smile on his lips and his eyes look less tired than a month ago, when he requested the special meeting.

Wade has met him after that day, of course, during all the Avengers missions he took part in to help, and the super soldier never addressed his and Peter’s relationship nor gave him more problems. He just gave orders, did his job and helped civilians; sometimes he even gave some compliments.

It’s weird - and a bit unsettling - see him here, talking directly to him about something so important. Wade immediately tenses up, ready for another argument, but Rogers doesn’t seem to be looking for a fight. On the contrary, his smile grows as he approaches the desk.

“Steve helped me convince Fury about this.” Stark explains and Wade pales under the scars.

“Why?” he asks in a whisper and Rogers shrugs.

“Do you mind if we talk in private for a second?” he changes topic, nodding at the door he left open; it seems to lead into a sunlight-lit corridor and Wade slowly gets up, following him as Stark remains in the office, waiting for their return.

“How are you?” Rogers asks while closing the door; one of the walls of the corridor is replaced by a huge window that shows the city. The Stark Tower is pretty high, so the sight is beautiful and Wade stops for a moment to see if he can find Peter’s apartment. He cannot, so he walks back, where some comfortable seats are, and answers: “I am fine.”

“Good.”

Rogers sits down with a groan and a wince; maybe he is hurting somewhere after a mission, but his expression turns controlled and normal again as he speaks: “You shouldn’t be so scared of accepting that job.”

“Why are you helping me now?” Wade scowls at him. “You tried before and it wasn’t that great. And you didn't seem so eager to give me another hand a month ago.”

“I know. This is why I want to help you in a different manner now.” Rogers’ eyes turn sad and his face suddenly looks older, tired, pale. He looks like he should be, an old, matured soldier who always fought for peace and freedom and lost many things during the way.

“I was wrong.” he admits, getting up. “And I am ashamed, because I was not the hero your little self would have been proud of.” Rogers looks at him in the eye and concludes, softly: “I am sorry, Wilson.”

Wade blushes; those words have hit home and he doesn’t know how to react, how to reply. He isn’t good at this, especially if the one telling him he’s sorry is Captain America, his childhood hero. He fidgets on the spot, shuffles his feet on the clean, elegant marble floor and mumbles: “… It’s okay.”

“I made a lot of mistake. Everyone does and I am no exception.” Rogers smiles again and snorts. “Bucky would agree.”

“Why did you change your mind?” Wade asks. He frowns, thinking about the past month. “Is it because you saw me fight without killing like crazy? Because I controlled myself and followed (more or less) your sometimes stupid (sorry) orders?” He grabs the hem of his hoodie, feeling like the child he was so many years ago. “Because I was a good soldier for once in my life?”

“Because you are a good person.”

Rogers grabs his shoulder and gently shakes it as Wade looks down, unable to come up with a witty answer, a joke, a comment to dismiss that compliment.

“I saw how you look at Peter and how he looks at you. You love each other so much and I am sorry I doubted and offended you.” Rogers sighs and even if Wade can’t see his face, he hears the guilt in his voice when he adds: “Sometimes, I want to protect my friends and my ideals so much I don’t realize I am hurting or throwing them away instead.”

“It’s okay.” Wade repeats and the little him he has inside, the little Wade sleeping in his heart, giggles because his idol considers him good, reliable.

He can already see Peter’s smile when he will tell him.

“So, please. Accept that job. I know you can do it.” Rogers laughs and pats his shoulder one last time before letting it go. “Peter knows it too. Think about him and the love you share and you won’t have any problems.”

Wade looks at the door, beyond which Stark is waiting for him to accept or refuse.

“What if I make a mess?” he whispers, eyes large with dread. “What if everything goes to shit because of me?”

“It won’t happen. But…” Rogers grabs his shoulder again. “ _If_ it happens, you won’t be considered a failure nor a monster. Only a man, a human being who can make mistakes and learn from them.”

Wade inhales deeply, mind filled with images of Peter. Peter smiling, Peter laughing, Peter biting a pencil while reading a book, Peter cooking with him, Peter kissing him and hugging him, Peter telling him he loves him…

He feels better already. He turns to Rogers and the little Wade inside urges him to say ‘thank you’. He does so and the super soldier smiles with a nod.

Wade opens the door and grins at Stark, feeling renewed, with energy and confidence again.

“Give me that contract.”  
  


\- - -  
  


When the door opens, Peter springs up from the couch and rushes to the hallway. Wade is there and the young man search for any kind of discomfort or bad emotions on his face. He finds none.

“How…” he has to clear his voice before he can ask: “How did it go?”

Wade remains impassible for other three seconds, then he can’t keep his smile at bay anymore. He bursts into laughter, a triumphant, booming, warm sound that makes Peter all tingly inside and they hug each other tight.

Peter doesn’t even ask what the offer is; if Wade is happy, then he is too. He laughs with him and only when the scarred man rummages into his hoodie and takes out a folded paper, he asks about the job.

“Is…?”

“Read it.” Wade giggles, bouncing on his feet, and Peter gently unfolds the contract. The more he reads, the more his heart beats faster and his smile gets larger. Not because the salary is good - even if he knows Wade cares about that a lot -, but because it’s a _good_ job, a job where his qualities aren’t underrated, a job where he is finally considered good.

“You will train S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits!” Peter exclaims, happy tears shimmering in his eyes. “Wade, you will lead a team!”

“I know and that thought is enough to make me shit my pants, but…” Wade laughs again, grasping his hand. “Even Rogers said I can do it!”

“Cap was there?!” Peter instantly pales, fearing the worst. “What did he say?”

“That he is sorry.” Wade pinches his cheek. “Stop making that face, baby boy, he convinced Fury to give me this job!”

Peter sobs happily and Wade adds, his tone softer, the hand on his cheek now cupping it: “Don’t cry, Petey.”

“Sorry.” the young man sniffs, giggling, and wipes his running nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “I am just so happy for you and…”

He hiccups again when Wade smiles at him and leans in to press his lips against his; he deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck, and hears Wade sob as well into his mouth.

“Peter.” the scarred man whispers when he pulls back; he caresses his face, brushes back his hair, gulps and finally asks, like Peter expected: “What did your Aunt say?”

“That she is happy for us.” Peter laughs when his boyfriend stares at him with incredulity before sighing in relief. “She wants to be your friend. Before she left, she told me she will come for dinner and will bring a lot of spicy food, just how you like it.”

“Oh God.” Wade suddenly frowns. “Is it Christmas today? It’s too hot to be Christmas. What is it?”

“It’s not Christmas.” Peter giggles, nuzzling his neck. “It’s something even better.”

“What did she say about my scars?” Wade gulps and Peter can feel and almost hear the motion. He raises his head to peck Wade’s lips and replies: “She doesn’t mind them. She said you don’t have to worry about them, that you are a sweet man.”

Wade trembles for a moment, his mind trying to assimilate those words, then he shows a toothy smile.

“God, Peter, today is definitely Christmas!”

Peter grins at him, then takes his hand, leading him to their bedroom; he softly places the contract on his desk, then gently pushes Wade on the bed.

“We have to celebrate.” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips against Wade’s chapped one and the other man hums, pulling him closer.

“Peter…” he kisses his face as Peter starts removing his belt and jeans.

“Yes?” he says with a smile, urging Wade to take off his hoodie, and after he has done it, laying bare-chested on their bed, he leans down again to kiss his skin.

“I…”

Peter looks up at him, raising his eyebrows and waiting patiently; Wade looks away, though, shy and hesitant, so the young man gently moves his head to look into his eyes. He searches into them for an answer and when he thinks he has found one, his smile grows and he says: “Do you want me to be on top tonight?”

Wade gasps and blushes.

“How do you do it?” he whines with a huff.

“Magic!” Peter takes off his shirt and jeans and rests upon Wade, both wearing only their boxers, which badly hide their mild erections. He keeps kissing the rough skin, eyes never leaving Wade’s, until the scarred man blushes more and blurts out: “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Sure?” Peter’s smile become broader and Wade snorts, poking his side.

“Sure, honey.”

“Okay.” Peter giggles and takes Wade’s bald head in his hands, slowly kissing him and grinding against him. The other man starts making low, happy sounds and Peter opens his mouth to kiss him better.

“Hey.” he pants after a good kissing session that aroused them and made them sweaty.

“Hey.” Wade whispers, licking his neck, and Peter jolts with a laugh at the sudden ticklish sensation before stopping him for a second and cupping his cheek.

“I love you.” he says and Wade blushes a third time, smiling bright like a sun.

“I love you too.”

Peter presses their lips together again; just a month passed since that fateful day, but it feels like a year and he can’t almost believe their life changed so much, that it became so beautiful just with a simple offer of help. He thinks about the nights spent together, about Wade’s attacks and he thanks God, because Wade doesn’t have those anymore now.

He thinks about the past month and smiles into their kiss, holds Wade tight before starting to prep him, listens to his sweet words and returns them as he fingers him.

And when he slips into him and hears his moans, sees his happy face, feels his strong arms around himself, Peter realizes that everything truly is well, that this is _perfect_ and he wants to stay with Wade forever, forever, _forever_ …

He looks down at him and Wade smiles, strokes his face; Peter kisses the tender palm, his thrusts slower, gentle.

“I love you.” Wade says and Peter smiles back, leans down and whispers against his lips, staring into his eyes:

“I love you too.”  
  


\- - -  
  


**Three years later**

 

“What should I write on the cake?”

The pastry bag lingers over the round, white dessert and Wade scrunches up his face, thinking. Peter laughs softly next to him and rests his head on his shoulder.

“Write what you most feel like writing. Something you want to tell her.”

“‘I love you and I wanna marry you’?”

Peter snorts, kissing the scarred neck.

“I thought that’s what you wanted to write on _my_ cake.”

Wade blushes, coughs, and mumbles timidly: “Shut up, you silly web-head.”

Peter’s answer is a giggle made right into the crook of his neck and the scarred man smiles as he starts to write the first word, ‘ _happy_ ’.

“Peter?”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

Peter moves his head from his neck and looks at him with alarm, which slowly turns into calm when he sees Wade’s shy gaze still fixated on the cake. The scarred man is adding the final touches on the glaze - some hearts and stars around the words _‘Happy birthday, Aunt May!’_.

“Of course I am.” Peter says with sincerity, kissing him. Then he cups Wade’s cheek, asking: “And you?”

The other man turns his head to look at him and Peter’s heart beats faster with joy when Wade smiles at him.

Wade returns the kiss and answers:

“I am happy.”

And it’s true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends! Thank you all so, so much for reading and liking this fic! I can't believe it gained so many fans, supporters and so much love. It started as a simple one-shot and look where we are now. I don't know how to express my gratefulness, so I am gonna give you all a super warm virtual hug ;v; 
> 
> I am going to work on some old prompts now and add second chapters to fics that need one; I also have some projects in mind that should be pretty interesting! Once again, thank you so much. I hope you didn't find too many typos in this. ;v;


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